Dream Date?
by Vindalootoo
Summary: A bit of Between the Lines and a prequel to Yushu. The anime revisited, from the date with Yuki on. Epilogue is up. COMPLETE for now. Maybe outtakes in the future.
1. Dream Date?

**Disclaimer: **Gravitation is all Maki Murakami's brainchild. I'm just playing in the sandbox with no profit to myself other than joy.

**A/N:** This belongs, technically, with the "Between the Lines" series, but it has long since gone beyond a oneshot.

"Seven Days" is such an enigmatic song and I've always been suspicious of the details of the date in the Odaiba Amusement park. This is my take on that day...and as it has grown, the subsequent events as well.

I'd _love _feedback. (Hint hint)

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**Between the Lines:  
****Dream Date?  
**By Vindaloo  
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Chapter One: The Big Day

A date with Yuki. A date with Yuki. A whole day together. Just the two of them. Alone.

Well, as alone as two guys could be in a crowded amusement park.

Shindou Shuuichi sat on the edge of the Mercedes' leather seat, hands tucked crosswise between his knees, staring eagerly out the window, beyond the Rainbow Bridge to the twists and curlicues of the towering Spin Bullet, Odaiba park's celebrated roller-coaster.

_There'll be no PDA. _Was Yuki's strict rule. _Keep your hands to yourself. No hugging. No glomping. We're just two guys taking in the park. Got it?_

Sure. He got it. No PDA. No 'public display of affection.' Because Yuki was shy. He pretended it was because he was this world famous romance author and if someone caught him holding hands with another guy, his career would be ruined, but Shuuichi knew the real truth.

He just didn't want to admit it.

Shuuichi, that was.

Shuuichi didn't want to admit that their long-anticipated date meant nothing but a lost bet to Yuki. Yuki didn't really want to be here. Not with Shuuichi, not even with one of his many girlfriends. Yuki Eiri, celebrated romance author, didn't do silly things like amusement parks. Yuki had bet someone...Shuuichi didn't know who, but he suspected his own manager, the crazy American, Claude Winchester, otherwise known as "K"...that Bad Luck's first CD would never go gold, never sell a million copies.

Yuki had gambled and lost and his penalty was this so-called date with Bad Luck's lead singer who just happened to be madly in love with the aforementioned romance author.

Never mind they made love at pretty much every opportunity. Never mind they'd been living together for months. Never mind Yuki had declared that fact on national television. Reality was, they rarely even met outside the apartment. Restaurant meals were 'refueling missions' combined with a 'chance to try out a new venue' as they visited the restroom together.

The one exception was the park. The park where they'd met, and where, sometimes, late at night, unable to sleep, they'd walk together, mostly silent, and where, sometimes, almost as an afterthought, Yuki would drape his arm around him and let him snuggle close.

To 'stop his chattering teeth from ruining the silence.' Or so Yuki insisted.

Well, Shuuichi wasn't going to let such stupid facts ruin his day. Or Yuki's either, for that matter. He'd surprise Yuki. He'd make sure Yuki had a good time, despite his sulky self.

He snuck a peek at his in-private-only-lover, and found those golden cat eyes had left the momentarily stalled traffic to glance at him. More surprising still was a softening around that perfectly cut mouth, a hint of...could it be...a smile?

Yuki's smiles were rare. Precious. Moments to be treasured. Was it possible he'd guessed wrong? Was it possible Yuki actually was doing this because he wanted to?

But no...

The cat eyes swept from his eyes to his lips, lingering a moment before turning back to business as traffic began moving again.

It wasn't today that put that smile on Yuki's face, it was this morning. Past tense.

Shuuichi felt the heat rise in his face, and stared at his hands as thoughts of that morning came flooding into his mind, of waking on the couch to the touch of those perfect lips, and he wondered, not for the first time, whether he'd ever wake up in Yuki's bed at Yuki's side rather than alone on Yuki's couch.

He had slept in Yuki's bed once, but he didn't count that time. He'd fainted. In the middle of the street. Shamelessly chasing after Yuki, dressed in a school girl's outfit, still suffering from the gang-banging his rival singer had 'arranged' for him. He'd fainted at Yuki's Italian-shod feet and waked up in Yuki's smooth, Egyptian-cotton bedding, with Yuki sitting in an American-made chair beside him, only to have that once in a lifetime moment shattered when Yuki declared he was leaving. For good.

Yuki had tempered that blow with a good-bye fuck. It had been, in it's own odd way, the sweetest, gentlest sex they'd ever had, but only, Shuuichi suspected, because Yuki felt bad for what had happened to him, had been worried about hurting him more when all Shuuichi had wanted was greater pain to shut out the gut-deep agony of losing Yuki forever.

He'd managed to dodge that bullet. Had chased after Yuki all the way to Yuki's father's Kyoto temple and convinced the morbid author that Yuki's dark past didn't change the fact that he loved him with all his heart. Yuki had relented, had allowed Shuuichi to move back into his home, but not into his bed. Never into his bed. Sex happened everywhere but Yuki's bedroom.

That morning, it had been a typical couch-fuck, with a towel shoved under him to protect the leather. Then, his body still throbbing to the rhythm of his racing heart, he'd been shoved into the shower with the words _ten minutes_ ringing in his ears.

Nine minutes later, they were in Yuki's Mercedes, racing toward the amusement park, to get in, so Yuki insisted, before the crowds.

Get in, have your fun, and get out. Fast. Efficient.

Just like Yuki's fucking.

Shuuichi sighed and stared out the window, his excitement fading as they turned into the parking lot and waited in line for the attendant.

"Shu?"

His heartbeat quickened, the way it would whenever Yuki called him by name. Like his smiles, it was so rare, so precious. Usually, he was 'baka,' a useful word, so Yuki claimed, because it covered so many appropriate personality traits.

Feeling suddenly shy, he glanced up into Yuki's golden eyes. "H–Hai?"

"Cell phones off." Yuki lifted his phone, flipped it open and thumbed the power off. "Unless we get separated and need to find one another. No one else gets to intrude."

It was like Yuki to think of that. He nodded, pulled his phone out and turned it off.

"This is your day, Shu, got it? Anything you want to do, you do. It's all on me. Food. Rides. Whatever you want."

He grinned as his one goal flashed in his head. "Even Pikura?"

"Even photo-stickers."

He cheered and bounced up and down in the seat as Yuki paid the attendant (including a very large non-tip), and pulled into the spot beside the booth. It would mean a long walk into the park, but Yuki's precious car would be the attendant's personal responsibility.

"Bust the springs in that seat, brat, and you'll be out a lot more than what this day is going to cost me." But Yuki's dry tones held a hint of amusement, and Shuuichi refused to be defused. This _would_ be a special day. For _both _of them.

He'd make certain of it.

TBC

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Short intro...but these will probably be short chapters. I'm still searching for the end to this one. I'd love feedback, as I'm sort of feeling my way on this one.

Love to all. Vin


	2. Spinning Golden

**Disclaimer: **Gravitation is all Maki Murakami's brainchild. I'm just playing in the sandbox with no profit to myself other than joy.

**A/N:** This belongs, technically, with the "Between the Lines" series, but it has long since gone beyond a oneshot.

"Seven Days" is such an enigmatic song and I've always been suspicious of the details of the date in the Odaiba Amusement park. This is my take on that day...and as it has grown, the subsequent events as well.

I'd _love _feedback. (Hint hint)

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**Chapter Two:  
Spinning Golden**  
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Ready to set the tone for the day, Shuuichi headed straight for the Spinner, Yuki strolling in his wake.

As they waited in line, he bounced on his toes, taking in the wonders around them. Never mind, he'd been here a hundred times with Hiro; today...everything seemed different. Special. He grabbed Yuki's arm to draw his attention to each newly discovered treasure, shifting to the occasional poke when the Death Glare warned him against encroaching PDA. He giggled and settled back to some serious planning of which rides to take in what order, checking out the lines with the eye of a seasoned veteran.

"We're lucky," he said, striving to sound wise. "School's started. The crowds are pretty thin..."

Beneath his dark glasses, Yuki's mouth remained noncommittal and for all Yuki nodded now and again as if agreeing with his plans, Shuuichi knew his mind was elsewhere. Probably on his novel.

That was okay. The-love-of-his-life's distraction wouldn't last. He'd counted carefully and knew they would be in the front on the next train of cars. That would liven up Yuki's day and maybe even get him focused on his date rather than on his next deadline.

Shuuichi hopped from one foot to the other as the attendant removed the chain and gestured toward the train.

"Arigatou!" Shuuichi gasped and skipped for the front car, hopping in and bouncing to the far side, ready to go. Except ...

The space beside him remained empty. He glanced back and saw Yuki still at the entrance as people pushed past him. Yuki raised his hand and called, "Have fun, kid."

His heart sank. Yuki wasn't joining him. Yuki had said, once, that Yuki Eiri didn't _do_ roller coasters. He'd thought Yuki had been joking, well, hoped, really, but even so, Yuki had brought him here, had said _do whatever you want..._

And only then did he realize: Yuki had said _he_ could do whatever he wanted, had said it was 'on him.' Meaning, Yuki'd pay the tab. He hadn't said he'd join him.

Shuuichi felt the tears spring to his eyes as the sun seemed suddenly dimmer, the cool fall breeze suddenly a cold, bitter wind. He lifted his hand in acknowledgment and turned slowly away, fastening the belt carefully, before slouching into the corner, his arms wrapped around his waist, small enough protection against that cold air. Despite his attempts not to hear, voices drifted on the breeze, giggles and gasps and reassurances, happy couples settling in behind him.

_I'm scared..._

_Just hold my hand ..._

He choked on a sob and slumped deeper into the seat, feeling more alone than he could ever remember, staring ahead at the long anticipated climb, thinking not about the exciting, stomach turning drop and neck jolting twists and turns ahead, but about that carefully formed mental itinerary and seeing a day filled with lonely seats, or worse, seats shared with strangers while Yuki watched, like a parent indulging a child who'd performed well in school.

"Hey, kid." The rather harried attendant came jogging forward. "Mind some company?"

Almost, he yelled _No, that's Yuki's seat!_ But that wasn't fair. Yuki wasn't coming, Yuki would never join him, and it wasn't fair to hog a whole seat, so he might as well get used to sharing the 'fun' with strangers. So he shrugged and shifted further into the corner of the car, staring off across the park, ignoring the stranger, whose weight rocked the car as he stepped in and slipped smoothly into the seat next to Shuuichi. A hand brushed his hip as the stranger worked the seatbelt free, and Shuuichi flinched away, biting his lip on a protest.

It was an accident, that was all. The kind of casual contact that happened in situations like this.

It wasn't this man's fault that every unexpected touch now roused memories of a parking lot and flashbulbs, of humiliation and pain. He pressed hard against the side of the car and squeezed his eyes shut, pretending, just for a moment, that the warm body _was_ Yuki and that if he just slid his hand along the safety bar that settled into his lap and locked them in, his rough fingers would encounter those smooth, elegant hands whose touch he knew so well.

The car lurched and began the slow, deliberate climb up the track. It was the scary part, the part of a roller coaster where he always clung to Hiro and screamed _Let me off!_

Because the truth was, he was terrified of heights.

He shivered and controlled the whimper that would only rouse vulgar curiosity in the silent stranger, and clutched the bar with all his strength, thinking about Yuki watching, wondering if Yuki cared that someone else was in the car with him. Wondering if Yuki would care if he flung himself into that stranger's arms.

Again, his imagination took hold and in that fantasy world, Yuki reached to cover that death grip with his own and Yuki's warm breath against his ear whispered, _Do you want me to hold your—_

A finger brushed his hand sending a jolt of electricity up his arm. His eyes flew open. He stared at the beautiful, manicured hand resting easily on the bar next to his, a hand that always made him feel just a little bit coarse, just a little bit rough around the edges. He followed that hand to the blue silk shirt, the black slacks that always made him feel like a bum, past the broad shoulders bordering the 'V' of pale chest that always made him feel skinny and awkward, to the lean chin and narrow eyes that made him forget everything except the desire to drown in the golden pools.

Golden pools twinkling with laughter.

"So?" Shuuichi sensed more than saw that lean hand turn, palm up, and Shuuichi, still held captive by those golden eyes, forced his fingers to open, one at a time, and as the thumb turned loose, grabbed at Yuki's offering. Yuki chuckled and stroked the back of his hand to relax it, then interlaced their fingers.

"I ..." Shuuichi forced the words past a throat tight with tears and fear. "I thought you didn't—"

"Always a first time." Yuki smiled, and leaning until their shoulders touched, hiding the action from the cars behind, and with only the clouds and the sun itself as witness, he lifted Shuuichi's hand to his lips as the cars crawled past equilibrium, and the plunge began.

Shuuichi screamed and flung up his now free hands; Yuki chuckled and sat back; and suddenly the day was perfect.

TBC

**A/N: **The house work moves apace, but leaves little time for editing/writing, hence the short but hopefully frequent updates to this story.

**Reviews: **Would love to respond individually, but for now, I've just got to say THANKS! I'm so glad people are enjoying this, because I'm having a lot of fun writing it. I'm still plugging away toward an ending. Responses are helping me focus that. (Hint hint)

**Next: You do Understand...Don't You? **A day at the park reveals a reality long overdue.

Please R&R.


	3. Author's Note

A/N: Sorry not to be posting a new chapter, but I've been looking at the rating system for this site and looking at some of the other postings and thought, in the interests of not getting bumped off by the rating police, that I'd better change the rating on some of my stories. This means these stories will disappear off some people's listings, so I thought I should post this notice. I haven't been deleted, just a voluntary change of rating to M.

This also will allow me a bit more freedom in the stories' content.

Thanks for your patience. As soon as this notice has had a chance to reach my darling regulars, I'll be posting a new chapter...under the M rating flag.

Vin


	4. You Do Understand, Don't You?

**Disclaimer**: Gravitation is all Maki Murakami's brainchild. I'm just playing in the sandbox with no profit to myself other than joy.

**A/N**: This belongs, technically, with the "Between the Lines" series, but it has long since gone beyond a oneshot.

"Seven Days" is such an enigmatic song and I've always been suspicious of the details of the date in the Odaiba Amusement park. This is my take on that day...and as it has grown, the subsequent events as well.

Sorry to have been so long. Bought a house and moving has taken every spare minute. I love all you reviewers and hope to find time to answer everyone, but I figure you all would like the next chapter more than answers, so...here we go!

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You Do Understand...Don't You?

By Vindaloo

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Yuki would never have believed, if he hadn't seen with his own eyes. Shuuichi was afraid of heights. He'd told himself that nothing would get him on that ride—or any ride, for that matter—

He'd told himself he relented and joined Shuuichi because K was undoubtedly watching and if the kid complained, one bored author would soon find himself riddled with buckshot—

He'd told himself that getting on the stupid ride was at least less boring than watching the stupid ride from the ground—

He'd told himself all of that as he'd grabbed the attendant in the act of replacing the chain and headed for that lead car, had excused his actions in any way possible, but somehow, seeing those narrow shoulders slump with disappointment, the glimmer of tears as his transparent little lover turned away, dignity had ceased to matter very much. Somehow, when he'd seen those white-knuckled fingers, and the small face pinched with fear, excuses failed, disappeared into the need to wipe away the fear, to have the million-watt smile light his shadow-world again.

And light it did. With the first plunge, Shuuichi's laughter and screams enveloped him. All hint of fear vanished in adrenaline-pumping speed, and while he never added his own voice to those around him, Yuki did have to admit, as the car jerked and wobbled to a stop, as the bar unlocked and he stepped free of the cart, hauling the breathless brat out behind him, that the ride _had_ been...fun.

Other rides followed. Nothing was too frightening or too childish for Shuuichi. He reveled in them all, scrambling about his carousel horse like an equestrian in a circus, singing at the top of his lungs with the calliope. He joined the children gathered around the bored men in furry suits and played the part so well he soon had those bored men joining the childrens' laughter.

It was a marathon, Shindou-style, and Yuki matched his pint-sized energizer bunny stride for stride (well, except for the singing and the furry suits) and found himself hiding not only smiles but even the occasional (tolerant) chuckle. It would never do, of course, for the slant-eyed amethyst glances to catch him in such an un-cool display, though from the random giggles erupting from the same source, he suspected his camouflage to be less than perfect.

The arcade was next, some idiotic VR game where the idea was to destroy the zombies before they got you. Yuki held back, more than content to watch as Shuuichi, his eyes wide with terror, gripped his 'gun' with both hands, shooting wildly, his hands flailing as if he planned to beat the projected zombies into oblivion.

Finally, out of sheer self preservation, and with a stomach complaining it was well past lunchtime, Yuki picked up a 'gun' and with cool precision, took out each zombie in turn. He expected the 'perfect' score that flashed on the screen; he didn't expect the look of utter hero-worship that appeared beneath the mop of pink hair.

Shit. As if he'd actually done something noteworthy. The damned 'gun' didn't even have a recoil. What was the big deal? Still, an insidious pleasure tingled up his spine.

No one, but no one made him feel the way this little idiot did. No one ever had. Not even...him. Sometimes, basking in the amethyst glow, he even managed to forget. More, he managed not to care about forgetting.

Was today the day? Could Shuuichi actually be..._his_ hero in his own train wreck of a life?

His stomach churned at the thought and he thrust it from his mind.

But it was more than hero-worship in those brilliant eyes that gazed at him across a quick snack of ice cream and Pocky, and somehow, he wasn't inclined to object when Shuuichi hauled him into another arcade, where Shuuichi, with a sly little glance, shot wildly in every direction...even before the bad guys (werewolves this time) deigned to make an appearance.

"Quick, Yuki!" Shuuichi screamed as the screen began to crawl with fur. "I'm wasting silver bullets!" The gun was thrust into his hands, and Shuuichi ran behind him to cower, arms wrapped around Yuki's waist, hands groping for...purchase. Purple eyes gleamed up at him from under his elbow. "Save me, Yuki!"

His finger closed convulsively.

"You missed," Shuuichi whispered, and his arms tightened.

He didn't miss again. And when the werewolves and vampires and space aliens were all eliminated, he hauled his small lover into the nearest men's room.

The scheming minx didn't even wait for him to lock the stall door before launching himself into Yuki's arms, his hungry little mouth seeking and finding a welcome on Yuki's own lips.

Yuki tucked his hands under the sweet ass and lifted, slamming the brat against the stall door and holding him there with his suddenly very uncomfortable pelvis. He cupped that even sweeter face between his palms and ground his mouth onto Shu's, taking control of the kiss, piercing Shu's mouth with his tongue, reveling in the residual sugar high from 'lunch' lurking in the corners of the warm, dark cavern.

Shuuichi whimpered and opened wider, mouth and legs, his intoxicating hunger spurring them both on. As usual Shu wasn't much interested in anything more than those hungry kisses, his slim arms damned near choking Yuki as he held himself in kissing range when Yuki stepped back to release his partner of both the door and his increasingly annoying clothing. Yuki leaned over to keep the mouth to mouth going as his fingers found buttons, zippers and elastic.

Shorts gone, then underwear and that sweet ass was his for the taking.

He groaned into Shuuichi's mouth as his little partner's hands shifted from rhythmically finger-combing his hair to a fumbling, blind search for the buttons and zippers still lying between them. Acting more on instinct than conscious thought (of which the madly osculating Shu was obviously currently incapable) small callused fingers found their way past his fly and surrounded him, teasing his erection into full attention before pulling it free into the chill of the air-conditioned bathroom.

Without further ado, Eiri grabbed the solid muscle of Shu's butt and lifted. The kid's legs wrapped around his waist and after some perfunctory prep, Eiri slid into that hot, tight hole that devoured him almost as eagerly as those hungry, still active lips.

Leaving one hand under his partner for support, Eiri searched between them with the other for Shu's smallish member and coaxed it into matching his excitement, and in the following moments discovered a whole new value to a building where every third person was screaming his or her head off; where no one noticed the squeals coming from the third stall in the third floor lounge.

"Picture!" Shuuichi shouted as they escaped the arcade, and grabbing Yuki's shirt, he began tugging him toward the infamous booth. "Pikura, pikura, pikura, piku—"

"Dammit, baka, no!"

"You promised!"

"Only so I could get you into that stall."

But he knew better than to actually argue with the brat. He'd managed to frighten off all the usual commercial photographers, those who stationed themselves throughout the park to help patrons commemorate their adventure, but Shuuichi had been looking forward to this stupid photo-club-sticker for weeks, and so he resigned himself.

He stood in the booth and stared at the red dot. Shuuichi stood in front of him and grinned like the idiot he was. The resultant image appeared to be Yuki holding a pink mop. The next, with Shuuichi standing on tiptoe and lifting his head as high as he could was only worse. Shuuichi, irrepressible as always, began laughing and jumping, fore and aft. Finally, Yuki took pity on him and leaned slightly, tipping his shoulder so the vibrant face appeared over it. For once, the camera flashed at the right moment, and Shuuichi squealed joyfully at the result, clutching the pile of stickers like a bride with her wedding photos.

Following all this strenuous activity, a boat ride through a grotto filled with fairytale animatrons was positively refreshing. He didn't even mind his idiot lover's soft sighs and surreptitious attempts to cuddle without seeming to cuddle. In fact, simply to fulfill his promise, of course, he slipped his arm around Shuuichi's shoulders and pulled him close, murmuring into the soft hair that tucked so perfectly under his chin, "I think it's dark enough in here to keep the gossips quiet, don't you?"

Much to his surprise, Shuuichi's answer was more irritated mutter than loving murmur.

"What was that?"

Another mutter, even less intelligible, from a face turned into his chest. "Shit. Quit chewing my shirt and speak up. What's wrong now? Here I thought I was fulfilling your fondest, dumbest romantic dream."

Shuuichi pulled away and frowned up at him. Well, pouted, but he was being generous today.

"I said, I don't give a _damn_ about the gossips."

Yuki frowned for real and hushed him. It was dark in here, but hardly soundproofed.

"I don't...I don't understand all this." Shuuichi continued in a fierce whisper, gesturing with all the energy withheld from his voice. "I love you, Yuki. I love you with every fiber of my being. You told those reporters I was your lover, but you won't even let me hold your hand in public."

Yuki hissed objection and grabbed his hands holding them forcibly still, but Shuuichi wasn't about to shut up.

"Don't you see the couples walking around here? Don't you have the smallest desire to put your arm around me like that?" Gleaming eyes searched his face, seeking something he'd never find, because Yuki would never let him see it, even if it were there inside, which Yuki himself didn't know. And as if the little idiot realized that simple fact, tears filled those bottomless purple depths, and the soft lower lip began to tremble. "Or am I nothing more than a...convenient bathroom fuck?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

Defiance crumbled completely, and Shuuichi shook his head, burying his face once more in Yuki's shirt.

He rubbed his chin into the pink mop, a color so distinctive only a month ago, and now, with the popularity of Bad Luck, it seemed every third kid he'd seen today had adopted it. Of course, on the copycats, it just looked stupid. On Shu...On his small lover, though he'd die before admitting it to the brat's face...it looked fucking fabulous.

"Yes," he murmured into that mop.

"Forget it."

He released Shuuichi's wrists and cupped Shu's face, urging it up. "I do want to, and you are more, but it doesn't damnwell matter."

"I said—"

"Shu, all those couples you spoke of...was there a single one like us? Not just two men, but celebrities. My glasses help us blend in... people's attention just naturally drifts past faces without eyes, and you become my weird, pink-headed, Shindou Shuuichi fan-boy companion. But if we acted like that... Don't you see, it would bring special attention to us. Critical attention. They'd look past the glasses and the antics and see who we are. What I said to the reporters means nothing. _Nothing. _We _haven't_ moved on as a society. All those people who wrote and called in to NG with their 'support' of our relationship have accepted us intellectually, but we can't rub their noses in it. They could stand seeing me outside my private apartment, among a mass of overly-aggressive reporters, with my arm casually around the shoulders of the midget who'd stormed out to protect me. Hell, they might even have accepted a closed mouth peck. We were the victims that day. Here...we'd be the aggressors. If the magazines plastered pictures of us walking around this place, this rugrat heaven, flaunting our relationship in front of Junior and Little Miss, the public would drop both of us like the proverbial hot potato."

A long silence as Shuuichi's abnormally enigmatic gaze studied him, then: "And is that why you never fuck me in your bed?"

He winced inside. He hated it when Shu reverted to _his_ terminology. Shuuichi insisted they made love. He insisted they fucked. Reality lay somewhere in the middle.

"What you're saying is," Shuuichi persisted, "it's okay with...with the world, I mean...so long as we're just fuck buddies who do it in bathrooms and on the living room floor?"

It was a conversation they should have had long ago. Right after Shuuichi's rape, if not before. Yuki Eiri's bed...and its associated nightmares...was his own. For now. And forever.

"What if we went to one of those nightclubs, like they show on cable?" Shuuichi persisted. "Would you hold my hand there? Maybe take me into that funny lighting in the back room and fuck me, with all those other men around? No one would notice us there, would they?"

"Stop it!" Dammit, enough was enough. Where the hell was all this coming from? He met Shuuichi's verbal attack with brutal reality. "Shuuichi,...you do understand, we aren't married. We'll never _be_ married. We don't even live together, not really. You're staying with me. Indefinitely. I'm not interested in any other arrangement. I thought you understood that."

A tiny sob escaped. Not the crocodile tears he shed regularly and expected everyone to ignore, but the quiet, real tears, like those that he'd shed on the roller coaster. Tears of fear mixed with utter disappointment.

"You _do_ understand, don't you?" Suddenly, painfully, he realized he wanted, _needed_ Shuuichi to understand that reality of their relationship. Dammit, he'd never pretended otherwise, never mind he increasingly couldn't imagine his day starting without his personal pink-topped alarm clock.

Sunlight pierced the darkness: the ride was nearing the end. Shuuichi pulled away, his face averted.

"Don't you? Shu?"

The boat pulled up to the dock and Shuuichi, with one final, oh-so-eloquent sigh, nodded. "Yeah." The whisper barely reached him. "Yeah, Yuki. I do."

**TBC**


	5. Indefinitely

**Disclaimer**: Gravitation is all Maki Murakami's brainchild. I'm just playing in the sandbox with no profit to myself other than joy.

**A/N:** Sorry folks...tried to update earlier, but ffnet was being snarky and kept spitting the file back at me. I finally overwrote a pending doc I had already posted. We'll see if this works! Don't be fooled by the apparent length. About half of this is response to reviews. Sorry about that. (Explanation at the end) I'll make up for it with a quick and legitimately longer update...just give me some feedback to let me know if I'm on the right track, then a day or two to polish the next scene.

**Technical note:** There is a ferry between Odaiba and the "mainland," but the "scenic route" is, as far as I know, only in my imagination. It's actually a fairly short ferry ride, at least by the internet posted schedules.

**Indefinitely  
**by Vindaloo

When Shuuichi passed the celebrated _Daikanransha _ferris wheel with no more than a weary glance, Eiri suspected he'd blown the day. Big time. But he kept quiet, figuring anything else he might say would simply make matters worse.

When Shuuichi stopped to check the map and began figuring the route back to the parking lot, he knew he'd blown it.

"Don't you want to stay for the fireworks? The sun will be going down soon."

Shuuichi's lips disappeared into his mouth, caught between invisible teeth, and he shook his head. "M–maybe next year, if...if 'indefinitely' goes that long, I'll...come back. Just for the fireworks. To...celebrate, you know."

As if a million copies sold no longer constituted a reason to celebrate.

Dammit. Throwing caution to the wind, he pulled the kid into his arms and whispered, "Tell you what, brat, if _indefinitely _is still operational, _we'll_ come back. Not in a year, but in the spring. On your birthday. And I promise you, they'll have the best fireworks ever."

A small, processing silence, during which Shu's normally active hands drooped listlessly, then: "Sure, Yuki," came the murmur, a murmur that didn't really believe what it was saying. "That'd be great."

And he pushed away, gently, muttering something about PDA, and Eiri berated himself for ever teaching the kid the term.

"So. Home?" he asked softly, and when the kid nodded, he headed for the parking lot, striding confidently.

"But ..." Another puzzled glance at the map.

"I never head anywhere without tracking my escape route," Eiri explained, without slowing.

Shuuichi paused before following, and a quiet, "Of course," floated up to him. But there was no skipping attempt to catch him up, just a resigned shadow drifting several paces behind him, never quite catching up, regardless how he varied his own pace. Finally, at the gate, he stopped altogether until his shadow was forced to join him.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, as they headed for the car, and Shuuichi shrugged. Eiri stopped, waited for Shuuichi to notice, to turn, to cast that inquisitive bird look back at him. "Would you like to take the ferry back? Rather than the bridge?"

The puzzled look deepened, then, with another shrug: "Sure, Yuki, that'd be nice."

He didn't ask again, just bought the scenic tourist route back to the city. It would be long, slow, and with the sun setting, quite spectacular. It was also, this late in the season, quite sparsely populated. He drew Shuuichi into the dining room, paid extra for a private nook with a spectacular view, and ordered for the kid, who looked blankly at the menu of fancy choices.

He really had to do something about Shu's culinary experience.

Drink's arrived, and he lifted his wine glass. Shuuichi stared at it a moment, confusion written on his expressive face, then, with a twitch of his brows, lifted his Coke glass to meet Eiri's offered toast. Eiri touched the rims. "To a million copies." And met Shu's brimming eyes. "Congratulations, Shindou Shuuichi of Bad Luck."

Shuuichi sipped, then set his glass down, staring into the effervescing liquid. "Why, Yuki?" And before he could ask _Why, what?_ Those purple eyes fluttered up to meet his, a hint of anxiety in their glorious depths. "Why'd you bring me here today?"

"I promised—"

"Who. Who'd you promise, Yuki? Touma? K? Or did you lose a bet to someone else?"

Damn. Caught. At least, almost. "It wasn't a bet," he answered quietly and truthfully, not wanting to lie to Shu, not about this.

"Not?"

"It was K's idea. He thought you could use a little extra incentive."

"So you—and the date—were a...carrot. At the end of a stick. Or maybe, since it's me we're talking about, Pocky on a stick."

"Something like."

"And those gunshots, the day you...promised. Those were K? Making sure you followed through?"

Ouch. "Yeah."

"You never really wanted to bring me here, did you?"

"I...wouldn't say that."

Hope flickered. "Really?"

Hope not even he had the intestinal fortitude to squelch completely. "I knew that million copies was important to you. If a day at a stupid amusement park could do the trick, who was I to get in the way of success?"

Uncertainty lingered in the gaze that flickered across his face, seeking answers Yuki wasn't certain he could give him. Would he have chosen this place? Not in a million years. Having been forced to attend...damned if he hadn't enjoyed it. Would he have enjoyed it with anyone other than his pink-haired idiot?

No. Definitively no.

Did he regret agreeing to the plan?

Definitively not.

There could be no doubt Shuuichi longed to ask those questions boiling inside, but suddenly his eyes relaxed, and with a determined set to his mouth, lifted his glass again for his own toast. "To my perfect date." Eiri, filled with guilt, rather reluctantly met the toast, and wilted completely, inside, as Shuuichi followed with a low, sweet: "Thank you, Yuki Eiri, romance author extra ordinaire."

He wilted, but damned if he'd let guilt rule his exterior.

On the other hand...

He reached, safe in the nook, for Shuuichi's unoccupied hand and lifted it to his lips. Shuuichi froze, his eyes going very, _very _wide.

A soft cough announced the arrival of their soup, and Shuuichi pulled his hand free to bury it in his lap. He stared down at the table, his face flaming red.

Embarrassment faded as he applied himself to eating his soup, carefully lifting the porcelain spoon and sipping the broth. It was really quite enchanting. He tried so hard to match Eiri's table manners when they were in public; a month ago, there'd have been more soup on his chin than in his mouth. And yet, his appetite seemed off. He set the soup aside, half-finished, and fished after his cell phone.

Eiri stifled his objection: if his company had grown tiresome, damned if the kid didn't deserve some reprieve. Except, it wasn't to make a call. He didn't even turn it on. The photo-stickers appeared next and Shuuichi began applying them to the phone, two, three...each very carefully placed and smoothed. The entrees arrived and Shuuichi quickly hid the phone—and the stickers—in his pocket.

All but one. The last on the card he'd been stripping for his phone. And that card lay there, throughout dinner and dessert. Possibly even forgotten.

Eiri pulled out his cigarettes and lighter and set them on the table for a post dessert smoke...right next to that card.

"How long do they last?" he asked, slowly spinning the long strip with one finger.

"Indef—" Shuuichi's breath caught. His eyes widened, and he finished, on a hard swallow: "Indefinitely."

"Is that right?" Suddenly, he knew what he had to do. "May I?" he asked, reaching for the strip, and Shuuichi just stared, puzzled. "I'll take that for a yes."

He pulled the sticker free and affixed it to his lighter—an expensive refillable lighter, a gift from his brother-in-law—as carefully as Shuuichi had applied them to his cell phone.

"Now, as long as I have this," he lifted the lighter and met Shuuichi's eyes. "I have you."

Damned if he knew what he meant by that, but it meant something important to the brat. Outside, the setting sun painted the sky in all the colors Shuuichi loved best; inside, it was high noon. Yuki, safe in their private booth with the one-way window, leaned over and kissed that wide smile, that instantly softened and opened eagerly to let him in.

And as they kissed, Yuki came to a decision. Slowly, gently, he broke the kiss, then murmured against Shu's lips, "Wanna go outside and watch the stars come out?"

**TBC**

**Next:** Past, Present, or Future? Which will rule Yuki's life?

**Reviews:** Wow, folks, you're terrific. Thanks to everyone for their thoughtful comments. The house is still eating up time and energy, but the good news is, I'm no longer sleeping around the clock! (For someone who usually exists on, oh, three hours a night, this is totally bizarre!) This means I should be able to keep updating fairly regularly. I'm currently waiting for my new sofa to be delivered, so have a moment to answer reviews. (Later.) Hmmm, I fear this rambles on...blame the furniture-guys for being late! I don't dare write story because it's a given that the minute I got solidly into a scene...they'd show up! (We won't talk about the fact that I've let three chapters go by sans-response!)

Kagome Mokuba: Thanks for being my first reviewer! And those questions you raised on Chapter three are dead on. When I was writing it initially, I wondered myself...until I wrote the next couple of scenes. It was one of those "characters take control" moments that makes writing so much fun. Hope this chapter and the next provide an adequate bridge for that "indefinitely" question. Be sure and let me know if it doesn't:D Keep me honest..._please._

Scorch66: Thanks for the regular support! I'm glad you find my characterization rings true. I hesitated at first to post because I was afraid it might be too far off ... you know we're all sure we know _exactly_ how MM meant us to read the characters, but my gawd, there's a wide variety! I love that roller coaster ride. It's such a perfect metaphor for the Yu/Shu relationship.

Moon71: Wow...I always love your reviews. You give me the perfect feedback for how the story is reading, which is something I've always wondered/worried about. I can't thank you enough for taking the time to post such in depth reactions, and I'm human enough to totally bask in the glow of your approval. I giggled when I read your suggestion re: the shooting gallery, knowing little Mr. Shu had already set poor innocent Yuki up. :D Glad you liked that scene. It was certainly fun to write. I actually added a bit last minute just to bring out exactly what you mentioned re: Shu's, er, proactive nature. I agree with you totally re: Shu. As I read him, when he has time (and inclination) to think about it, I think he's a very caring, loving little so-and-so, but he's also more inclined to fret over the universe not moving according to his expectations than he is to hold himself accountable ad nauseam for that "incorrect" behavior. Yuki, OTOH, does hold himself responsible, at least as I read him. He's not about to admit it, but it's there. More on that with the next chapter.

Bloodstar: the Vindaloo song? Wheeeee...Lotsa hot curry for everyone! Seriously, thanks a heap, and so glad you're enjoying it.

Santsy-san: Hope Shu's character is making sense for you now. Let me know if he doesn't:D

Animefreak20006: Wheee another favorites list. (Snoopy dance!) Thank you!

Jade-T9: Thanks! Hope you like the rest.

Gabrielle: Thank you. For me, story is all about motivation, and motivation is always a mix between thoughts and emotions, so you get a lot of each in my stories:D I wouldn't go so far as to say "plot, what plot?," but for me, plot is what happens as a result of two or more of the aforementioned motivations colliding and the characters dealing with the fallout. In this case, of course, I already have the plot done for me, so I'm looking for the motivations that make that plot make sense for me, which is really fun.

FraisesPasteque: Tee-Hee! I hoped that would surprise a few people. In the anime, of course, we just cut right to Yuki on the roller-coaster, but getting him on one might well have taken K's sniping action...or a truly needy Shu. As an anime-first fan, I admit I was a bit disappointed in the manga version, which did seem rather pointlessly chaotic in comparison. I think it was one of the better editing jobs on the part of the anime. Virtual truffles are the best kind, thank you! Totally calorie and guilt free! (I'm a sucker for happy endings as well, so...not to worry. I haven't actually written this one's ending yet, but we all know Blondie ends up going back to Pinky. :D)

Snowwhite4444 and Brandi and Lady Karai (love that name!): Thank you!

Jersey Thursday: Another reviewer I always love to hear from. I am, without question, dialogue heavy. I did my first writing for a graphic novel I was doing, so was probably influenced early on. Sometimes I have to remember to put in actions since at the time my "style" was being formed I could just draw it in:D In this case, I suppose some could complain that my Yuki talks _too_ much, but I really don't see any indication in the anime or the manga that he doesn't talk, just that he doesn't say what Shu needs most to hear. (A deliberate omission, IMO, and part of his on-going attempt to push Shu away.) Of course, the flip side of that is, one of the joys of prose is that you can put in so much more of the internal thought processes than you can with the visual formats...hence that anticipation you mention. So often, the story lies in the journey, not the ending. For me, the ending is obvious...for any real Gravi story: Shu and Yuki _have_ to end up together. The real fun lies in that emotional rollercoaster that gets them there. Your ramblings were not at all confusing, and I agree whole-heartedly, though I think Yuki is actively afraid of getting close to anyone. I think, myself, that it goes beyond the potential betrayal aspect and very much includes a dread of hurting Shu. I think he doesn't understand, at this point, why he killed Kitizawa. Certainly that's the implication of the anime. The flashback is very limited in the boat ride confession and gains important details once Yuki is in NYC. Those differences provide the basis for my interpretation in this story.

Red-headed etc.: You're so _sweet_! Thank you!

Saint Germaine: My goodness. All of them?!? Thanks so much. I like Forever, too, particularly the first half. Anyone who does a lot of conventions or has to do public appearances has probably felt that emotional post-tour trough that Shu's caught in. That's a large part of what I was trying to capture in that one.

HarperC: Isn't all of Gravi predicated on that very question? And somehow, Shu's sweet, naïve optimism always prevails. :D

MockOrange7: Thank you!

Everybody over at Gurabiteshiyon, thanks for reading and reviewing!

Meadhbh...take no karma! I'm thrilled you took the time to review at all, and personally, I LOVE long reviews that let me know what's working (or not working) for you.

Vera: Thanks so much, but I have to admit, I accumulated several stories before I began posting. When I started writing them, I didn't even know or Gurabite existed! I just had to fill in a few blanks. So what I do now is monitor how people are reacting and (if necessary) edit the upcoming story to accommodate. (That's why reviews are ever so helpful!) And then, there's the fact that I find it terribly difficult to let anything go and keep editing right up to posting (you'll even sometimes see slight differences between GB and FF postings. Dumb, but there you are: I'm always sure I can make it better!) I have several half-written (like this one) which I'm hoping that posting will gig me into completing:D

Yuuji Kamui: hope it's living up to the promise!

Daxemon: Melancholy...you know, that's really a great word to describe him in his down moments. Much better than angsty or depressed. Frantic and bewildered also apply. (Yuki: _Frequently.)_ Thanks as always.

Yipes! There's my sofa!

Fuzzybuunnytoo: you're always so encouraging! Thank you so much. I'm actually a bit surprised that more people aren't moved to do this, since really most of the problems people write complex stories to solve are actually solved within the anime and manga, if you just squint a little. :D I mean, even the Hiro/K pairing is hinted at in...manga 12, is it? I might actually play with that one, if no one else gets there first. I'm usually a real Yuki/Shu fan, but the pairing of Hiro and K is pretty irresistible. Just the thought of those two gorgeous manes mixing on a pillow is intriguing, eh?

Bellehime: wish I could say the Shu torture was over, but as we all know, it gets worse before it gets better. Fortunately, as we also know, he always wins. Gravity will not be denied. ;-)

Sorry to rattle on, folks! More story very soon.

—Vin


	6. Past, Present, or Future?

**Disclaimer**: Gravitation is all Maki Murakami's brainchild. I'm just playing in the sandbox with no profit to myself other than joy.

**A/N**: This belongs, technically, with the "Between the Lines" series, but it has long since gone beyond a oneshot. "Seven Days" is such an enigmatic song and I've always been suspicious of the details of the date in the Odaiba Amusement park. This is my take on that day...and as it has grown, the subsequent events as well.

**Chapter four:** Yuki's revelation: **NOTE:** Some fairly significant changes made to the last scene posted April 25, 2007.

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴  
**Past, Present, or Future?  
**By Vindaloo  
✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

Still lost in the tingling aftermath of Yuki's kiss, Shuuichi whimpered, torn between the romantic suggestion and knowing that to go outside, away from this private nook, meant to return to the no PDA rule, and that this strangely gentle Yuki would disappear once again behind the cold façade. But Yuki was already slipping free of the booth, so the choice was made.

He scooted out the other side of the booth as Yuki counted out cash—more than enough for the bill—then followed Yuki out of the restaurant. They wandered along the deck, enjoying the breeze, staring out across the glittering water at the Tokyo skyline, silent, as much of the dinner had been silent. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, but he couldn't say it brought him any particular pleasure, either.

Usually he couldn't stop talking; tonight, he just had nothing more to say.

Living together. Indefinitely. When for him, there was nothing, _nothing_ that would ever make this feeling inside him go away. This feeling that made him want to lean against this cold, rock-solid man, that cheered in triumph every time that shadow-smile threatened, or those strong arms left their model-like pose and surrounded him, pulled him close, that melted in utter surrender every time those lips came near.

For him, Yuki was forever. Always.

For Yuki, Shindou Shuuichi was...indefinitely.

They leaned side by side on the railing, as the sun disappeared and the stars blinked into crystal clarity in the eastern sky. The lights of the city made their own, earth-bound galaxy.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Shuuichi murmured at last, and Yuki grunted something that might have been agreement, and might just have been an artifact of his turning his back to the sight and reaching into his pocket for his cigarettes.

Shuuichi sighed and let his chin rest on his crossed arms, seeing not the city before him, but Yuki, in his own private mind's eye. He didn't have to watch to see it. He heard the single clean tap on the bottom of the cigarette pack, the whisper as Yuki's sensitive mouth freed its victim, the rustle of clothing as he replaced the pack, and the _click _of the lighter...

Which didn't come. The familiar rhythm was broken. Shuuichi shifted to gaze up at Yuki, wondering what had interrupted that well-timed choreography, and discovered Yuki staring at his hand, or rather, at the lighter it held, a strange, unreadable expression on his face. A tiny shudder rippled through him and Shuuichi hoped it was the sudden breeze, not the promise Yuki had made over dessert that caused it.

Suddenly, he felt the need to free Yuki from that promise. He didn't want Yuki forced to keep him around. Of course, maybe he only meant Shuuichi could stick around until he tore the sticker off, which wasn't much of a promise. Still ...

"Thank you," he whispered, and Yuki started. Golden eyes flickered to meet his, and the next moment, the tiny flame appeared on the end of the lighter and the tip of the cigarette began to glow behind Yuki's cupped hand.

_Click_! And the lighter, without another glance, disappeared into Yuki's pocket.

A slow pull on the cigarette, then: "No big deal. I made a promise."

"Yeah, you did. But ..." He found a smile, if not a very big one. "But you were so nice. I mean, not just dinner, but the roller coaster, the arcade ..." He gripped the now-priceless cell phone in his pocket. "M–my photo-stickers. And you didn't have to be. I—I know this isn't your thing, and you'd rather be, I dunno, at a museum or something, but it...it was...well...thanks, Yuki. I'll always remember today."

Distant pops carried across the water and fireworks happened in the direction of the park.

Another slow pull. "Perfect timing," Yuki said dryly, pretty well trashing the moment before it had a chance to be special.

As always.

Shuuichi turned away again, pretending to watch the distant explosions, but really to hide the fact that once again, his eyes were brimming with those tears Yuki always mocked.

Behind him, he heard Yuki take a deep breath and braced himself for a sarcastic berating...

That never happened.

"Since I'm being so..._nice_...and all," Yuki continued, with a curious shift in tone that Shuuichi couldn't identify. Curiosity won over self preservation, as it always did, and Shuuichi glanced up, to find Yuki pulling something else out of his pocket. "I've got this for you. It's the...final piece of the puzzle, if you will."

Shuuichi reached a hesitant hand. It was a picture. A real, developed print with a date on the back, not a computer printout. A portrait of two men, one in his twenties, whose rather ordinary image barely registered to Shuuichi, the other little more than a boy. A boy about Suguru's age. A blond young man with wide, innocent golden eyes and a sweet, open smile.

He tried to study the whole picture, to be smart for once and to solve the 'puzzle' Yuki spoke of, but he couldn't. He couldn't take his eyes away from that innocent, yet hauntingly familiar golden-eyed gaze.

"I'm the little guy," Yuki said, in an off-hand matter, and suddenly, Shuuichi's stomach dropped, and somehow he knew. Love radiated from that young face. Love...for the other man in the picture. He didn't know who that brown-eyed man was; he only knew he hated him, with all his heart. "The other guy? That's the guy I killed."

Killed?

Shuuichi's head went suddenly light. And suddenly it wasn't stars above him but trees. It wasn't a boat beneath his feet, but a temple garden and Yuki's ruthless voice telling him:_ I killed them. I killed them all. _

That revelation, deliberately calculated to repulse Shuuichi, hadn't shaken his love for an instant. Whoever Yuki had killed, had deserved it. Of that, he'd been certain. A certainty which, for the first time, wavered.

It couldn't be. This boy loved this man. It was so clear. So real. A look Yuki had never, ever given him. Scorn, disgust, reluctant tolerance...lust. He saw those all the time, but never, this open, loving, trust.

"I don't recall the details," Yuki continued, his offhand tone reaching past the buzzing in Shuuichi's ears. "My therapist insists I've repressed the memories, and she's probably right."

Shuuichi blinked, his attention tracking wildly from the picture, to Yuki's calm face, and back to that barely recognizable innocence.

"I had a rough time in school here because of my non-Japanese hair and eyes. Seguchi—he was engaged to sis at the time—had his own place in the States. Family business interests had him spending a lot of time there. When one particularly nasty beating put me in hospital, he offered me a place to stay. Said he'd been looking into private schools in his area and thought he could get me in on a special scholarship. Promised to hire a tutor for me to learn English well and without an accent—didn't want me sticking out in America either, I guess—and my dad, well, he was just as happy to be rid of me."

Shuuichi swallowed hard, not knowing what to say or even what to make of this sudden flood of Yuki-history. He wanted to know, dear sweet Buddha in heaven, how he wanted to know, but he was afraid. Afraid of saying the wrong thing, as he seemed so often to say the wrong thing around Yuki. He'd made Yuki cry, once, for the first time in six years, so Yuki said. Yuki had cried because Shuuichi had let Aizawa's goons have their way with him—to protect Yuki's reputation. And Yuki had cried.

For the first time in six years.

And Yuki was twenty-two now.

He'd been Suguru's age...sixteen...in that picture.

Even Shindou Shuuichi could do that math.

He tried not to shiver in the chill breeze washing across the water, wondering vaguely why this ferry was taking so long even as he hoped the ride would go on forever, wondering as well if it was the boat itself making Yuki talk like this, or if he'd planned it all along, and that his impending revelation, not an impending deadline, explained his distraction that morning.

"My tutor was like no one I'd ever met." Yuki's calm voice continued relentlessly. "He was Japanese-American. Light haired and eyed, kinda like I was. He taught me to speak English like a native, introduced me to the vast body of great English literature, nurtured my desire to write. I...worshiped him."

Worshiped. Shuuichi glanced down at the picture of the man he loved and wondered if _that _explained the expression, and drew his own conclusion. Yuki couldn't say love about this man, either. And he wondered, what did this man do to make Yuki utterly incapable of saying that one precious little word? Wondered if he had this man to thank for depriving his own soul of the simple revelation.

Yuki's beautiful fingers appeared on the edge of the photo and pulled it gently from his lax hold, turned it so it faced Yuki again. Shuuichi didn't look up. Didn't think he could stand it if that loving look he'd so yearned for had appeared at last only to be directed toward a picture.

A picture of a dead man.

"I remember all the time we spent together like it was yesterday. The details of that final day...those are the missing ones. I remember I met him in the park. Everything was wonderful. I remember an apartment building—his—and a rather dark hallway. And then, there were two other men, out of nowhere. I remember pain, a gun, shots. And being on my knees, naked, that gun hanging from my limp hands as my tutor's blood spread in a puddle on the floor. It...it stained my knees. Sometimes...sometimes, I can still see..."

Yuki's voice faded and Shuuichi glanced up to a wide-eyed stranger. A quick shake of his blond head and Yuki was back, cool and detached. "Then, miraculously, Touma was there, holding me. How he knew I was in trouble, how he knew where to find me..." A shrug. "Hell if I know. I suppose someday I'll have to admit the bastard's psychic. Hell if I cared at the time. At the time, all that mattered was the gun was gone and all I knew or felt were Touma's arms and Touma's voice telling me it wasn't my fault, which was, of course, patently ridiculous. I'd killed him. Shot him along with the men who raped me."

"R–raped?"

Yuki's eyes had drifted out across the water. They flashed now, down at Shuuichi, a hint of frustration in them.

"I figured you'd guessed at least that much."

Shuuichi shook his head. Yuki had said a lot of things, things about betrayal, and not wanting it to happen again, that night he'd broken down, but none of it had made much sense. All Shuuichi had known was the need to comfort, to hold. To _be _there, in every sense, for the man he loved so dearly.

But it all made so much sense now. No wonder Yuki had reacted so dramatically to Aizawa. He knew, personally, the kind of degradation and pain the other singer had caused. Had it been Shuuichi's rapists...or his own Yuki had pummeled into hamburger in NG studio four? And Shuuichi...Shuuichi's presence then had only reminded him of all that. Oh, sweet Buddha in heaven, what should he say? Did he _still _remind him of that day?

"Doesn't matter." Yuki shrugged and turned back to the water. "Yeah, they raped me. So I killed them...and Yuki."

Shuuichi started, and suddenly found his voice. "Y–yuki?"

Yuki lifted a chin toward the picture. "My tutor? His name was Kitazawa Yuki. I took his given name as my pseudonym, when I began writing."

To honor the man who'd nurtured that gift. The man he'd killed.

He could imagine the whole thing. Bad men waiting in the hall attacking, a gun flying free and Yuki firing in panic, taking his tutor down with those who'd hurt him...

Suddenly, he shuddered as that cool precision and deadly aim, those lightning-fast reflexes he'd watched with such admiration in the arcade took on a whole new significance.

It was...incredible. Unbelievable. And yet, whatever happened, the law must have seen it as self defense.

Unless Seguchi-san had managed to hush the entire affair. So maybe his guilt or innocence never was an issue, maybe...maybe Yuki had never had the...satisfaction of hearing "Not guilty." Two simple words, like the three Shuuichi's soul longed to hear, simply to set his heart at rest. To...release the pain of uncertainty.

Still, Yuki spoke of it all so calmly. Surely, for all the tears Yuki had shed that one terrible night following Shuuichi's rape, he'd dealt with it, long ago.

Never mind, he'd never spoken of it before, only the fact that he'd killed someone and that had been revealed only in an attempt to drive Shuuichi away for good.

Yuki turned his back on the water and leaned against the rail. "Well, now you know everything there is to know. All my ugly little secrets. Happy?"

That attempt hadn't worked. And neither would this one, if that's what Yuki thought to do.

"Y–yeah," he whispered on a breath and Yuki's profiled mouth tightened in a reluctant little smile.

"I'm glad for that." But he didn't sound glad. He sounded sad. Distant. Even...regretful.

And yet, maybe Yuki wasn't trying to drive him away. Afterall... he'd been so nice. He'd joined him on the roller-coaster, treated him to an expensive dinner, for all it had all tasted of the tears Shuuichi had been holding back. But Yuki had put the sticker on his lighter and said as long as it lasted, so would they.

What did it all mean? Was it...Was Yuki trusting him with this information ... because ... could it be because Yuki _did _love him? Really and truly?

Yuki was watching him now, out of the corner of one eye. Watching expectantly. Waiting for him to say...something. Anything. But...what _could _he say to that startling revelation? He didn't know how to use words, not like this. His instincts screamed at him to reach out, to hug away the pain he felt lingering beneath those ice-cold words, to release that tension—for both of them—but for all there was no one else in sight, he knew Yuki would thrust him away. PDA. No PDA. Ever.

Robbed of his only answer, the need to do _something _overwhelmed him. Tears loomed, and half-hysterical laughter, and they met in his throat and choked him.

He coughed. And coughed. Until tears filled his eyes for other reasons.

A hand pressed his shoulder. "Why don't you go get us something to drink. Canned latte would be nice."

Calm request. Gently voiced. The coughs eased along with his fear. Grateful for the reprieve, he nodded and sprinted for the stairwell, terrified that at any moment, the hysterical laughter would win.

✴✴✴

A hint of painfully familiar laughter drifted up the ferry's main stairwell.

Yuki sighed and turned back to the water.

He'd asked too much, expected too much of the in-so-many-ways still childish Shuuichi. Too much information, as they said.

A part of him, a very stupid part, had hoped that somehow, miraculously, Shuuichi would hold his answers, that Shuuichi, with his curiously insightful, utterly endearing stupidity, would say something that would lift the veil from that fateful day and allow him to release it—and Kitazawa Yuki—forever. That would free him, perhaps, to accept that which Shuuichi so ingenuously offered him.

Instead, he escaped to laugh. Not that Eiri believed for an instant the ridiculously sweet kid was amused. Only overloaded. He'd seen that glazed look begin as the kid stared at the picture, had watched it grow the longer he went on about the hazy details, the more he tried desperately to trigger a response.

And now, he was alone, which was a good thing. It was, after all, the natural state of the universe.

He gazed at the picture, saw his tutor's eyes laughing up at him, mocking, as he'd done for six years. His therapist had insisted he carry this picture in his pocket, the only picture he had of the two of them. Had ordered him to take it out several times a day. Facing the past, she called it.

Not that it did a damned bit of good. He still couldn't remember the details of that day. Didn't understand the feelings that filled him when he looked into Yuki's immortalized gaze. Above all, the _why _utterly eluded him.

Why did he ever shoot someone who had meant this much to the boy he'd been? The men who raped him, yeah. Those two...or had it been three?...they didn't matter. They'd deserved to die.

But Yuki? Why his ... beloved ... tutor?

Yes, he'd ... loved Yuki, with all the passion of first love and hero worship. Was this feeling, when he looked at that picture, still ... love? If it was, it was nothing like what he felt when he looked at Shuuichi. If he ... loved Yuki, he couldn't love Shuuichi, and vice versa.

The feelings were just...too different.

The one constant in his life had been his undying love ... for the man he'd killed. To love Shuuichi, he had to release Yuki. Could he do that without declaring his entire life to be a sham?

The memory of that nightmare moment when Yuki's face devolved into a mass of blood had lurked in the shadows constantly since Shuuichi had arrived in his life. He rarely looked at Shuuichi without thinking of his tutor. They were nothing alike, physically, and behaviorally ... gods, they were night and day. So ... why did Shuuichi remind him of Yuki?

Was it because Shuuichi made him smile, for the first time in six years? Or was it as simple as his physical desires finding a focus in a single individual . . . for the first time in six years? Was it because Shuuichi was male and so _able_ to continue whatever it was Kitazawa Yuki had roused in him . . . that same six years ago?

Or was it Shu's persistent demands for permanency? Was it the fact he felt himself ... slipping toward surrender?

In a desperate attempt to control that tendency, he had declared their relationship indefinite. It had been a foolish ploy. He knew damned good and well that for Shuuichi, at least, right at this moment, they were—and would always be—forever.

Forever.

Fuck.

He closed his eyes on the sparkling water, remembering one moment so very clearly, the hope of his younger self, as ingenuous as Shuuichi back then, that he and his Kitazawa-sensei would be together...

Forever.

And then he'd shot him.

He couldn't even blame it on panic. It wasn't panic he recalled from that day, it was anger. Anger of the sort that had blinded him more than once in the subsequent years. Anger of the sort that had caused him to put an innocent man in hospital just because he got between him and the animal who had instigated Shuuichi's rape.

He had to wonder... if he gave in to the insidious attraction he felt for this pint-sized, pink-headed dimwit...if he admitted, even just to himself, that same desire... the desire to be together... forever ...

Would he ... hurt ... Shuuichi too?

Was that it? Was _that _the underlying fear that twisted his gut and leaked blood into his phlegm? Not that silly little Shuuichi would somehow disastrously betray him, but that _he_ might ... betray Shuuichi?

Was he destined to destroy everyone he dared to ...love?

The answer to that all-important question didn't lie in that picture. Neither did it lie in that poor overloaded kid running after a caffeine hit. It didn't lie in his therapist's office.

Or even in Japan.

He ripped slowly through the picture.

He was slipping, sliding dangerously close to falling utterly for Shindou Shuuichi's charm.

A second rip.

He was a fool, but Shuuichi was a magician. If he stayed here, he'd fall and if he fell...

Three. Four...as small as he could make the pieces. Then, he held his hand up and waited for the next bone-chilling gust and opened his fingers, letting the wind take the pieces of the picture.

A burial at sea. A hero's burial. He wondered...was it appropriate? For either of them?

In all these years, he'd avoided...caring...about anyone or anything.

What if his fears were founded? What if he ...did... to Shuuichi ...what he'd done to Kitazawa Yuki?

Could he survive another such realization? Could he stand to wake up some morning to Shuuichi's blank-faced stare, to Shuuichi's blood making a permanent stain on his hands?

He shuddered and turned from the railing.

If he was to have a future, now was the time. Time to face the truth about the past. In the one place that held it.

He glanced toward the lighted stairwell and headed for the bow.

"Goodbye, Shindou Shuuichi," he murmured as he passed the stairwell. "Goodbye and good luck." And as he headed quickly down the crew's narrow circular stairwell, another word followed him down. A whisper, in his own voice.

_Aishiteru_.

**TBC**

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**Next**: I Need a Ride: Shuuichi's stranded dockside.

**Reviews**: I'm truly speechless. You folks are so terrific.

AoMe Hs: Gracias! And that about uses up my Spanish repertoire:D I so admire anyone fluent in more than one language! I'm glad you are enjoying my take on this wonderful story.

FP: (forgive the informality!) Munch munch munch Love these things. You know, the most frustrating part of the inability to post is the inability to _report _the inability to post! One assumes the powers that be are well aware and working on the problem...but what if they aren't? (And is anyone else looking at the date very suspiciously?) Big hugs for the review. I love the whole sticker-thing myself and was actually taken by surprise when Yuki put it on his lighter himself. I'd always assumed it was Shu who did it. :D

Red-Head: Thanks! (And I will, too.)

Scorch: The fun/challenge of this story was trying to fill in my take on the anime. Research is so taxing! I have to keep the DVD in my computer and force myself to refer to it when my memory eludes. Such sacrifices I make for the cause! (Giggle)

Moon: Wheeeeeee...I dunno about other writers, but one of the things I love about writing is doing exactly that, i.e. just sinking into the character's head and heart and feeling right along with them. I love it when I hardly even have to think to make my fingers type. It's like the characters take over and I'm just a...conduit. I'm delighted if that's coming through. As for the authenticity of Yuki's reaction, I wish I could say I'm this wonderful, even-tempered individual who always makes every day sunny for the rest of the world, but I fear I'd be tripping over my nose before I ever got the words typed:D Been there, done that, got a closetful of "kick me" tee-shirts:D On the dialogue-topic, obviously, I've a bias as well. I _like _dialogue:D:D:D I love it when the characters just zing back and forth. I'm also envious of those who can make a scene sing just with their prose. I'm following the anime as closely as I can, however, from here on out, we begin to deviate as there were, IMO, some major head-scratching moments in the anime's continuity. :D For instance...how _does _Shuuichi get home and what about Yuki's Mercedes?

Sayuki-girl: Good review. Thanks. ;-

HarperC: Wow. Thanks. I love it when little "bits of business" echo back into the story. I wish I could say I'm super clever and planned it all, but I rarely do. BoB happen both ways. Sometimes something I've used all of a sudden echos naturally and consequently takes on significance. For instance, I had no idea that Yuki's "indefinitely" was going to come back in. My fingers literally froze when Shuuichi began to answer Yuki at dinner. Once he made that answer, it became an obvious "theme" if you will. There's so much of writing that's hindbrain...it never ceases to amaze me.

The other way is by editing. It's one reason I'll probably never post as I write. Too much of what ties a story together are motivations and reactions which you simply can't anticipate which require going back into an earlier scene and setting up properly. Can't think of a specific example at this time, but I do it all the time. Basically, I write a story from the inside out. :D

As for the working artists thing...I have made my living both as an artist and a writer and have done a bit of public singing as well, so the whole premise of Gravitation had a real resonance for me right from the start. I actually got onto Gravitation after catching Descendants of Darkness on AZN TV. I hadn't watched anime for years and the extensive yet subtle characterization and story of DoD was like nothing I'd ever seen. I went Netflix-cruising for something as good as DoD and the whole premise of Gravitation just reached out and grabbed me. Thankfully, the story absolutely lived up to the premise, in no small part because the characters do ring so very true.

As a footnote, serendipity also got me into the whole fanfiction thing. I could only get the first two DVDs from Netflix...which left me with Shu dripping wet on Hiro's doorstep! I _had _to get poor Shu out of that mess and in the time it took for my order to arrive, I wrote my first fanfic...which I realize I haven't posted yet. Hmmm. :D Anyway, few months later, after devouring both the anime and the manga, I went looking for other Gravi-fans and found ffnet and Gurabiteshiyon. Am I ever glad I did! I couldn't agree more about the quality of the readers. You all are marvelous.

Supershu-chan: Not creepy at all. And thank you! Hope you like the others. Big Shu hugs!

Mizu-Miha: Please don't die!!!!! I need all the readers I can get:D:D:D

Saint Germain: Thanks. It's rapidly becoming my favorite of my Gravi-fics as well. I think because, in the end, I seriously love the story, anime or manga, as well as the characters. It's brought me a great deal of joy and it's such a thrill to share that joy, in whatever way works. It's easier for me to write out what I see in it in story form than to try to describe what I see in discussion groups, so something like the fanfic community is a real godsend. Though we've still quite a bit of story before we get there, the boys surprised me once again in New York! Hope you like it. ;-)

Snowwhite4444: Thanks very much, but to be fair to the other wonderful writers on the site, I've had a whole lot of practice. I'm old enough to be mother and even grandmother to many if not most of the readers:D And I've been writing fairly regularly for the last, hmmm...almost twenty years now. (Yipes! I suddenly feel very old!) One thing I love about this venue is that it's the first time I've been able to get reactions scene by scene if you will and it's helping my writing a great deal.

Again, I thank you all for that great input!

As for dialogue...I wish I could point to a single technique that I use, but I don't really have a conscious one. As I think about it, however, it all comes down to the first advice given me regarding writing fiction and that was to take two characters you barely know, throw them into a room together and see what happens. If they just sit there, you've got a problem, but even then, you ask them "Why are you just sitting there." And if one says "I hate blue eyes and that sucker has blue eyes." (Don't ask me where these responses come from! Hind brain or channeling another dimension...take your pick:D:D:D) Then you can ask him/her "Why do you have this aversion to blue eyes?" At that point, the possible answers will be dictated by your own experiences. One of those answers will ring true for the character, and then you know one more bit of information about him/her.

Of course, you also know that the other character has blue eyes!

(Yuki: Unless the bastard is wearing contacts. Probably knew that other joker hated blue eyes and is trying to make him start a fight so he can have him arrested for assault.)

Er...the lad has a point. Always be suspicious of the "of courses."

Most of my story and character development and even dialogue comes out of just that sort of Q&A with the characters. "Why the heck did you do/say that?" Their answers are increasingly dictated by the "what do I already know about this character?" In the case of Yuki and Shu, there's a whole LOT we all know. :D For something like the "always having an escape route," the process was really the same. I didn't start out with that insight, but Shu stopped to look at the map, and the scene was about getting to the car and going home and again, the answer to the question "what would Yuki do in this situation?" kind of answered itself. He'd never be so uncool as to look at the map. He'd also never be caught with a wrong answer (i.e. not know the way back) or resort to (horror of horrors) _asking _Shu! So, the answer? He always has his escape route planned. :D (Which, of course, then takes on other significance, given the ending of the story.)

It seems to me, the more I write the more such bits of business just "pop up" but when I get stuck, that "why" or "what" question is still plan B.

The hardest part sometimes is getting out of the way of the characters and letting what you subconsciously know about them take over. Curiously, the rules of writing frequently seem to get in the way. The more I can get out of the way and let my instincts take over the easier it is to get that first draft out.

That, of course, is not when you post! That's when you go back and edit it into viable English:D:D:D That's the time to pull up and use all those seemingly silly rules.

Does that make any sense at all?

Sorry, folks. Kinda digressed.

KagomaMokuba: Am I getting closer for you? (Crosses fingers hopefully) I think, perhaps, I read Yuki's whole motivation for leaving a bit differently. I never got the impression that he planned to leave at the end of the day. I never thought he forgot Kitazawa, or that he headed for NYC to commit suicide, only that there were unresolved feelings, i.e. missing answers. (That "why" of the previous response.) In the anime, he says (subtitles), "It's just no good. I still can't remember. I don't know what this sensation is, no matter how hard I try." Also, I might have been misleading in a previous response. If so, I apologize. I don't expect to get a happy ending to the date itself...that _would _be OOC, at least for the canon storyline. Only that I can't see leaving the story at that point and so have continued on. I suspect it will end after Yuki's return to Japan. Oh... minor clarification: he promised to return for Shu's birthday only if "indefinitely" still applied. i.e., if they're still together. At that point, yes, he's figuring on telling Shu. Also, he tells Shu on that night he cries that he wants to be with him. I think that still applies here, but he's got issues that must be resolved before that can happen. I see this as the turning point for Yuki and his commitment to Shu. In order to love him, he has to silence the questions in his head once and for all. For a character writer, motivation is everything and he doesn't understand his own motivation for shooting Kitazawa. Of course, once he gets to NY with (serendipitously) a gun in his hand and gets his answer, his own response/reaction comes into play and shifts the equation yet again.

(Minor note...the other big unanswered "why" is Kitazawa's motivation, something I addressed in _Yushu_, for those who haven't read it. I don't see that as important to him at this point because it's dealing with something done to him by someone else, someone not truly a part of the yuki/shu equation.)

Whew...another long-winded response. Sorry.

ANKuma: Always love to hear from you! I admit, I'm a hopeless romantic. I adore writing scenes like the dinner scene.

Gabrielle: Thank you! I have to admit, one reason I don't update more frequently is because you folks are addictive and I HAVE to work as well! The fact that my work is on the same laptop I use to do Gravi stuff makes it doubly hard. I'm glad you like 'my' Yuki. While I understand the reason for a lot of the "scum of the earth Yuki" stories, I just don't see it in him. Manga or anime, he's really very honest with Shu and plays very fair with him...if you look at it from his perspective. Even the "cheating" stories...Yuki's _always _giving Shu a hard time talking about his other sex partners. Whether he's telling the truth or not is left to our imagination, but while Shu might _hope _for exclusivity, it's hard to believe he'd really _count _on it. In my view of the relationship, he'd only be shocked to discover Yuki _is _exclusive. :D And from Yuki's VP, he'd find anyone else downright boring after being with Shu. ;-)

Daxemon: Wow...thanks! Curiously, you've hit on one of the aspects I subconsciously love about this section of the anime and all the NY scenes. I hadn't really thought about it before, but they're...quiet. Unlike so many anime (and even the Gravi manga) these climactic scenes are very reserved. No flying pandas, no explosions, no car chases...just a quiet, relentless drive to the psychological resolution. Even K's involvement is subtle. Yeah, we have Shu in a dog suit exploding out of the floor in NY, (not to mention crashing through the roof and stage of the ZepTokyo), but even that I personally take as Yuki's impression of what's happening, not reality. I'm glad I've captured that same tone. Many moons ago, I recall an episode of Miami Vice that did the same thing. The climax was this quiet, music-only sequence following the boy's car to the site of a crime some 20 years old. It was really quite amazingly powerful.

Animefreak: heh heh...only as bad as it gets in the anime. I'm following that story. :D I beat the boys up enough in my other fics.

Hugs to everyone!

Vin


	7. I Need a Ride

**Disclaimer**: Gravitation is all Maki Murakami's brainchild. I'm just playing in the sandbox with no profit to myself other than joy.

**A/N**: This belongs, technically, with the "Between the Lines" series, but it has long since gone beyond a oneshot. "Seven Days" is such an enigmatic song and I've always been suspicious of the details of the date in the Odaiba Amusement park. This is my take on that day...and as it has grown, the subsequent events as well.

**Chapter six: **Hiro (about time he showed up, eh?) gets a phone call from an abandoned Shuuichi.

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴  
**I Need a Ride  
**By Vindaloo  
✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

Shuuichi returned to the upper deck, lattes in hand, but there was no Yuki. Anywhere.

"Yuki?" he called, puzzled, but there was no answer. Thinking perhaps Yuki had had to go to the bathroom—it had taken him a bit to find a vending machine with latte, but if latte was what Yuki wanted, latte was what Yuki would get—he curled into a chair as far out of the wind as he could get, and waited.

And waited.

He checked his voice mail, but there was nothing. He called Yuki's cell phone, but from the instant reversion to voice mail, Yuki's phone was still off. Shuuichi left a cheerful message, for all he wasn't feeling exactly cheerful, and went back to waiting. He was afraid to leave, afraid he wouldn't be here when Yuki came back and they'd spend all night chasing each other around the three decks, or worse, Yuki would get mad or disgusted with him and being tired, his mad wouldn't go away and it would spoil the whole day.

A uniformed person came by and he asked if anyone with Yuki's description had been reported taken ill—though surely Yuki would have sent someone to get him—but the uniformed man called his 'sick bay,' and no, no one of that description was or had been there.

"Maybe you should come inside, kid," the man said with a friendly smile. "Getting pretty cold out here."

But he shook his head, and the man, having work to do, shrugged and left him. He curled up in a tighter ball and continued to wait.

They were drawing into the dock before he finally admitted that wherever Yuki had gone, he wasn't coming back to the deck, decided he'd probably not heard Yuki telling him where to meet him, and resigned himself to Yuki being mad despite his efforts.

If Yuki had told him where to meet him, he'd never, _ever_ come looking...or even call...or answer his cell phone.

As he pushed himself stiffly out of the chair, he felt something brush his hand. A piece of paper, a small, torn remnant of something larger stuck in the plastic webbing.

A bit of a photo.

A familiar golden eye smiled up at him.

"What the heck," he whispered, looking around for more pieces of Yuki's precious photograph, but there were none. What had happened? Why had Yuki torn up that picture?

More anxious than ever about his missing lover, he ran downstairs and wormed his way through the cars to Yuki's Mercedes.

Yuki wasn't there either. He waited. And waited. Fingering that tiny scrap of paper.

The cars cleared out, the attendants moved the Merc to let the cars behind it escape, and still no Yuki.

"Sorry, kid." The attendant came up, Yuki's car key in hand. "Gotta move it out."

"But Yuki—"

"I don't know what to tell you, kid. The boat's been checked and we're all clear. Your friend must have walked off. You two have a fight?"

Had they? Feeling rather lost, Shuuichi shook his head, for all he was far from certain.

"Well, we've got to get this car off."

"I—I can't drive."

The man began to lose patience. "Well, the car can't stay here."

Shuuichi swallowed hard and tucked that precious link to Yuki deep into his pocket, sealing the velcro tight.

"C–can you drive it off? Please? I–I'll call my friend. My other friend. He'll come—"

"Hey, kid!" The uniformed official who'd helped him call the sick bay came running up. "I've been asking around. One of the attendants saw a gorgeous (her words, not mine) blond man in a blue V-neck, black slacks and sports jacket leaving the boat right after we docked. Sound like your friend?"

Shuuichi nodded. Stunned.

"He called a cab."

Shit. What had he done this time? Yuki might well abandon him, but he'd never abandon his car.

Maybe Yuki was playing a game? Trying to scare him, or testing him again.

"Hop in, kid," the car attendant said from the driver's seat window, and Shuuichi slipped into the passenger seat. The attendant drove the car off the boat and parked it in the nearest parking lot, and, with an admonition to keep inside with the doors locked until his friend arrived to help, ran back to the boat before Shuuichi remembered to say thank you.

Dammit.

For a minute, he just sat, his mind numb. Finally, he pulled out his cell phone and called Hiro's number.

✴✴✴

The instant he was off the line with Shu, Hiro called K.

"I need your help."

"_Anything for my band, you know that, Hiroshi."_

"I need a ride."

"_Now?"_

"ASAP."

"_Your bike broke?"_

"K-san."

"_Ah, shit, I just stripped for bed."_

"TMI, K, TMI."

"_Woose."_

"Do I get the ride?"

"_Of course, kid. Be there in ten."_

"Thanks."

As he waited for the crazy American manager to arrive, Hiro slowly pulled on his own clothes.

He hadn't liked what he'd heard in Shu's voice, not one damned bit. This had been the Big Day, and now, Shuuichi called from a parking lot at the ferry docks. Abandoned.

And he'd been near tears, no question about it.

Dammit, what the fuck had that blond bastard done to his crazy, pint-sized best friend this time? The _best_ friend, dammit, any man could have, if only Yuki Eiri would wake up and see past the sex. Shuuichi swore he had done just that, following Shu's rape, but Hiro would believe _that_ fantasy when he saw Shu happy for more than a day at a time.

_If you ever make him cry, for anything other than his own stupidity_...He'd granted Yuki a lot of leeway, unable to imagine himself the difficulties of an otherwise reserved man living with the extreme extrovert, an extrovert who used that quality to hide some of his most significant insecurities. He'd beg Yuki to say he loved him, tease him unmercifully just to rouse an irritated cease and desist, when all he really wanted was a brief moment of reassurance. A hug, dammit, to remind him he wasn't alone in the sea of sensory input that was his world.

Once, Hiro's hugs had been enough.

His phone rang. It was K, announcing his imminent arrival outside the apartment. Hiro grabbed his jacket and ran down the stairs to meet their manager.

"Going to explain?" K asked, as they sped through the streets toward the harbor.

"Can't, really," Hiro answered quietly. "Just got a call from Shu asking me to come pick him up. He sounded pretty upset, and all I have is my bike. It's a pretty long drive and tired as I am, I thought—"

"You thought good, Hiroshi. Upset, huh? Yuki-san?"

"Why else would he need a ride?"

"So he didn't say?"

Hiro shook his head.

K's hands clenched on the steering wheel. "Dammit. And after all his work. I'm going to kill that blond-headed SOB."

"If he's really abandoned Shu for no reason, I have a previous claim on his hide."

"Nonsense. You do it, Seguchi-san will know in a heartbeat. I can do it anonymous—"

"_K!"_

"You thought I was kidding?"

"Hell, yes!"

"Shit. Then I suppose I was."

Hiro scrubbed his hands across his face and through his hair, trying to sort his brain enough to deal not just with an hysterical Shu, but a blood-thirsty K. "Look, K, I need you—"

One hand left the steering wheel to pat his knee, and in his calm, sane, everything is under control voice, K said, "Don't worry, Hiroshi. I get the picture. That kid isn't going to need any more stimulation by the time we get there. I'll behave."

"Thanks."

"And kill the bastard on my own time."

Hiro sighed and turned his head toward the blur of lights flashing past his window.

It wasn't just Shu waiting for a ride.

As they approached the address Shuuichi had given Hiro, they found an empty parking lot. Empty, except for a sleek, black car. Yuki's Mercedes SL-roadster.

K whistled through his teeth and met Hiro's eyes. "What the hell is going on?"

"Damned if I know."

"He didn't say anything about this?"

Hiro shook his head. Twisting to look back at the car as K headed for the distant entrance to the parking lot, unable to see inside because of the tinted windows, praying Shu was in it, as there was no sign of his friend anywhere else.

"Double good then you had me bring you. We can't leave that rig here. It won't last until morning...at least not in its current, integrated beauty."

The thought of K driving Yuki's car was not to be contemplated. The only thing that kept his driving sane on this trip was that he was using the car NG supplied him: a Toyota without the power to be 'interesting' to their power-junkie manager.

"No key." Hiro pointed out.

"I'll hotwire!"

Hiro sighed, whether with relief or frustration, not even he was certain, as they pulled up to the car and a small figure in a bright orange hoody appeared on the passenger side.

"Let's just find out what's going on."

**TBC**

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**Next Chapter: **Going Home


	8. Going Home

**Disclaimer**: Gravitation is all Maki Murakami's brainchild. I'm just playing in the sandbox with no profit to myself other than joy.

**A/N**: This belongs, technically, with the "Between the Lines" series, but it has long since gone beyond a oneshot. "Seven Days" is such an enigmatic song and I've always been suspicious of the details of the date in the Odaiba Amusement park. This is my take on that day...and as it has grown, the subsequent events as well.

NOTE: minor changes to last scene since initially posted.

Chapter...shit, what are we on? Seven? The ride home and what Shu finds...or doesn't find, once he gets there.

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴  
**Going Home  
**by Vindaloo  
✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

Shuuichi was holding himself upright with a deathgrip on the car's door. He looked terrible. Exhausted. Eyes swollen with crying.

"Shu—"

"Please, Hiro," he said, in a tiny voice, "don't ask. Just . . . can you get me and the car home?" He held out the keys. "Please?"

K gave the Merc a lustful glance. "Sure you can handle it, Hiroshi?"

Hiro just sighed and rolled his eyes before taking the keys gently from Shuuichi's nerveless fingers.

"I'm fine, K. Thanks. I just want to get Shu home, OK?"

"Yeah. Sure." K heaved a sigh and ducked back into the car. "I'll follow." His voice left no room for argument.

"So," Hiro began quietly, as he pulled the powerful car carefully out into the lightly trafficked roads. "Going to explain?"

"I don't know how." In Normal Shuuichi, he'd be whining. This Shu sounded tired and confused, shivery with cold, and just plain scared.

"Did you two fight?" He began with the obvious.

"No! We had a great time. We were on the ferry. We'd just finished a really good dinner, and Yuki...well, he was just being really nice. Then he sent me after drinks, and when I came back, he was gone."

Leaving his precious car. He began to understand Shu's confusion.

"And he hasn't called you?"

He shook his head.

"Okay." He made his voice firm. Confident. For all he wasn't at all certain of his hypothesis. "I'm betting it was some sort of family emergency. He went inside to get out of the wind, got the call, and spent the rest of the time on the phone with the emergency. He left and called a cab, trusting you to get yourself home. He knew the keys were left with the attendant."

"But I don't _drive."_

"He probably forgot."

"He goes all green every time I ask him to teach me."

"So what's _your_ explanation."

"I pissed him off and he left me in disgust."

"Did you?"

"I _don't damnwell know!"_

Shu's voice shook with the kind of quiver that began deep inside, at his very core and Hiro silently cursed the growing traffic that demanded his full attention.

"Easy, Shu," he said gently, "You're panicking. Deep breaths, buddy. Now, tell me what happened, even if it doesn't seem to matter. Let's start with what you were talking about before you went for the drinks."

"It was—" Suddenly, he stopped. Hiro dared a quick sideways glance and discovered Shuuichi staring wide-eyed into space. Whatever they'd said, he couldn't repeat it. Couldn't tell Hiro. Hiro, to whom he'd shared everything—_everything_—for years. "It was private stuff, Hiro. Real, real private."

"And he told you not to tell anyone?" That was possibly the cruelest thing he'd heard about the writer. To give loaded information to Shuuichi, out of whom words flowed like water—

But Shuuichi was shaking his head slowly. "Didn't ask me, no. But . . . he wouldn't want me to say anything. I'm sure of it."

O-o-o-kay. Shuuichi. Discretion. Discretion. Shuuichi. He guessed he could equate the two.

If he squinted.

"So . . . he told you all this private stuff, then sent you off for coffee."

A nod.

"What did you say to him in between those two?"

"_Noth—"_ Shu's voice caught. His eyes widened even more. Then, in a whisper, he repeated. "Nothing. And that's what I did wrong. He needed me to say something. To do something. Instead...I laughed."

"_Laughed?"_

"Not to his face! But...but I was confused. I didn't know _what_ to say or how to say it. I wanted to hug him, to tell him everything would be all right, that I loved him, no matter what, but—"

"Sheesh, Shu. What'd he say? Is he, like, a serial killer or something?"

Shuuichi jumped. Glanced sharply at him, in a way that made Hiro more than a bit nervous. But Shu just said, quietly, "Or something. —Anyway, I think now that he asked me for the latte just so he could be alone. U–unfortunately, once I was away, all that stuff building inside, well, you _know_ how I am."

He certainly did. When Shu got like that, he either cried—or laughed. He had to break the tension somehow.

"Yeah, Shu, I do. And...and I _bet _I know what happened." They were on the freeway. He spared a hand from the steering wheel to take Shuuichi's cold one. "If this stuff was really personal, if it was hard for him to tell you in the first place, and—and if you did, somehow, fail to give him whatever it was he expected—_Which is not your fault, Shu!"_ He qualified quickly, knowing his friend and his guilt-sponge personality. "Anyway, he probably just found the nearest bar and drank himself stupid. When you got to shore, he staggered off the boat and took the nearest cab to the nearest bar to continue being stupid. Or, he had it take him home. Probably he was afraid he'd say something more. Afraid to make a fool of himself in front of you, and so, coward that he is, he ran. Leaving you scared and alone. Selfish bastard."

Shuuichi didn't answer. Hiro hazarded a glance and found those big purple eyes locked on his face.

"Shu?"

"You...could be right. But he's not, you know."

"Not what?"

"Selfish. It's just that he gets scared, too. But not the way you said. He's scared of hurting me."

"He does that all the time."

"Not mentally, Hiro. I mean _hurting_ me."

He turned at that, taking the steering wheel with him. He caught the swerve quickly, but received a long, loud reminder from K for his slip. "What the _hell_ are you talking about? If he so much as lifts a finger—"

"He won't."

"Dammit, Shu, you don't _know_ that."

"Yes, I do. I just wish he was as sure about it as I am." Shuuichi sighed, and curled up in a ball around his seatbelt, in a way only Shuuichi could, tacitly declaring the conversation at an end.

When they neared the house, he uncurled and Hiro broke the silence. "That selfish bastard ever give you a key?"

Shuuichi shook his head.

"How're you going to get in—if he's not there, I mean."

"Garage." Shuuichi reached forward, tapped a button and drew a remote control out of the dash.

The door rose. Hiro brought the car to a gentle, precise halt, stifled a grin as he saw, in the rear view mirror, the nose of K's Toyota right on his bumper, blatantly preventing the door from closing again.

He wasn't about to risk losing two of his three musicians.

But he needn't have worried. Hiro wasn't about to risk going into that house without K's backup.

Shu, on the other hand, had other ideas. He stopped at the door and faced them.

"It's okay," Shuuichi said quietly. "You can go now."

"Not a chance," K said.

"After what you just told me?" Hiro asked incredulously. "I don't think so."

K's eagle-eyed gaze flashed toward him. "Told you? What did he—"

"Nothing, K-san." Still in that quiet, calm voice. "Hiro, forget I said that. I don't want you two coming in. If Yuki is here, he's asleep: as you saw, the lights were all off. I don't want you two waking him up, especially if he has a hangover. If he's not here, I don't want him coming home to the impression that I've somehow gathered an army to confront him with a wrong-doing I don't even feel he's committed."

"Shuuichi—"

"I told you, Hiro. _He's_ worried about hurting me. I'm not. And we've got enough to sort out without you two adding to it when you only half understand."

Hiro felt K stiffen beside him at the implied danger to Shu, and caught the older man's elbow, a silent warning not to ask.

"Then tell us, Shu," he urged. "Help us to understand."

"No. I haven't the right, and I wouldn't if I did. This is between Yuki and me."

Hiro was, flatly, stunned. There'd never been anything in his life Shuuichi had failed to share with him. And yet . . . he didn't feel as if Shuuichi was drawing away. It was just a new sense of maturity in his friend. A good maturity, he acknowledged reluctantly, even as he mourned the easy, blindly trusting confidences.

"Please," Shuuichi whispered, and for all his brave words, he looked very young and very tired, and almost Hiro defied him. Almost, Hiro reached around to force that door open.

Almost. Instead, he put both arms around his best friend and hugged hard. "You keep that cell phone close and if anything, _anything_ goes wrong, you call me. Do you understand?"

He felt Shuuichi's nod, and knew, by the hold that tightened around his waist, that Shuuichi would, indeed, call.

"I might be a little late into the studio tomorrow, K-san," Shuuichi said, apologetically.

K frowned. "You have until noon to at least call."

Shu nodded.

"Twelve-o-clock, Shindou-san, not a second later. Do you understand me?"

"_Yes!_ —Now, thank you both very much, but will you please leave so I can close the garage door?"

Hiro climbed into the Toyota's passenger seat as K flung himself behind the wheel. As they pulled slowly out of the garage, the door began to lower. Shuuichi, still standing beside the door, didn't move, his small, sneaker-clad feet remaining in place even after the door broke eye contact.

K pulled out into the street and waited. And waited. Finally, a light came on inside the apartment and a small, very lonely shadow appeared, looking out. The shadow lifted a hand, then walked slowly away, and the light went off.

K sighed, put the car into gear, and pulled reluctantly out into the empty street.

✴✴✴

He was ... numb. He'd been numb ever since he'd run out of tears. Tears of anger, tears of confusion ... of fear. Sitting in Yuki's precious car, waiting for Hiro, he'd let the ugly thought intrude, he'd admitted his real fear, that Yuki had gone to join his true love, that having confessed to the murder, he'd sunk into that swirling, sparkling water Shuuichi had so admired.

He hadn't dared to voice that fear, had found temporary comfort in Hiro's speculations, had rather see Yuki drunk than dead, had hoped against hope to find him here when he'd walked through the door.

But Yuki wasn't here.

He'd looked everywhere: not just for Yuki, but for signs that Yuki had even been there since he'd disappeared, but there were none. Even Yuki's laptop was still in its place on Yuki's desk. Which meant, Yuki would be back.

Eventually.

If he was alive.

To retrieve his laptop, if nothing else. His notes, his stories ... the only things that truly mattered to him.

Unlike Shindou Shuuichi.

Shuuichi eased himself wearily onto the couch, canned latte in hand. He punched the tab and waited for it to heat, holding it against the shivers that threatened.

The next thing he knew, he was still sitting in the dark, still shivering, and cradling an unopened canned latte gone tepid.

So much for caffeine.

By the time the can had gone cold and the sun was beginning to turn the sky pink and gold, Shuuichi knew: Yuki wasn't coming home.

**TBC**

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

**Next:** That will be all, Shindou-san: A visit to Sacho-san's office.

**A/N:** From here on out, there will be some temporal shifts from the anime version. I'll still be using dialogue and scenes from the anime, but it might be in somewhat different order. For one thing, the way the anime is written, it took Yuki about a month to get from the NYC park to Yuki's apartment! (Note how much happens to Shu between those Yuki scenes:D) Hope you still enjoy!

**Reviews:**

Fuzzybunnytoo: you're so sweet. Thank you! I'm not familiar with the anime you mention. Wish I had the time, but right now, Shu and Yuki take up all my "play" time. We'll just make it virtual Pocky to go with the virtual truffles! Much easier on the collective waistline. :D I love Hiro and K together. In a scary way, they're the most sane individuals in the story! Someday, I hope they'll give me a story all their own.

Scorch66: that line (the Aishiteru line) caught me by surprise, too. Love it when that happens. The arcade connection just suddenly dawned on me as I was writing. Mostly, it's just a matter of practice looking for little "connections" like that. Incidentally, I don't really see Yuki as a sharpshooter, only as someone who focuses very tightly...I mean, watch him typing while Shu natters! Now THAT'S impressive! According to the self-defense experts I've spoken to, hitting a relatively close target can be much more a matter of instinct than conscious thought, as long as you don't panic. I don't see Yuki as someone who panics...even on That Day. (Actually, I suspect that That Day was The Day his adult personality crystalized.)

AoMe Hs and Earthlight: Thank you!

Lisa: Thank you! The whole idea is to follow the anime as closely as possible, so there'll be no great friction between Yuki and Shu (they aren't back together until the end!), although Shu shows some serious backbone in the next segment, which I rather like. As I said in the A/N, though, I'll deviate a bit...I leave out one...no, two scenes altogether and sort of ...mix and match some of the others in an attempt to create a timeline that makes a bit more sense. My one regret is leaving out the airport scene. I love Shu trying to pass as baggage! But I just couldn't get it to fit in smoothly. Darn it. I just can't figure how to do sight gags in serious prose! (Sniff.)

Iname: I'm working on it. ;-) And it'll go to the end of the anime and probably on to Yuki's return home. I'd sort of like to get poor Shu legitimately invited into that bedroom. ;-)

AmyHavok: I looked for your story but didn't see it. Have you posted it somewhere else? or under a different name?

Hope I got everyone! Thanks to all of you for reading. Vin


	9. That Will Be All, Shindousan

**Disclaimer**: Gravitation is all Maki Murakami's brainchild. I'm just playing in the sandbox with no profit to myself other than joy.

**A/N**: This belongs, technically, with the "Between the Lines" series, but it has long since gone beyond a oneshot. "Seven Days" is such an enigmatic song and I've always been suspicious of the details of the date in the Odaiba Amusement park. This is my take on that day...and as it has grown, the subsequent events as well.

**Chapter **8: A new day and a call to the president's office.

**A/N**: I've made some important changes to Yuki's scene in_ Past, Present or Future_. My apologies, but that's what I get for posting before I've finished the story! Explanation in A/N at the end of this chapter. Thanks for your patience!

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴  
**That Will Be All, Shindou-san  
**by Vindaloo  
✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

Noon arrived, and there was still no sign of Shuuichi in the NG studios.

Hiro could only sit back and marvel as K did his best to deflect the 'where's Shuuichi' questions with ribald jokes and suggestive speculation. He chuckled dutifully as their producer, Sakano, panicked, half-convinced that Shu and his older lover had spent the day fornicating in the streets, and that Bad Luck was finished before it got a chance, and began pacing wildly about the practice room, bemoaning the corruption of his sweet, innocent lead singer.

If only it were that simple.

Hiro tucked his head and fiddled with his guitar, replacing a perfectly good string, polishing an already mirror-bright finish, tuning—anything to avoid the puzzled gaze of the band's third member, the young and sometimes too canny Fujisaki Suguru.

The lunch break alarm the ever-starved Shuuichi had set on the computer blared through the room. K, with a dark glance at Hiro, headed for the door.

"I'm going with you," Hiro said, and setting his guitar on its stand, he slid off the stool and followed his manager, ignoring the startled glances from Sakano and Suguru.

But as K reached for the doorknob, it turned.

Slowly.

And slowly a very exhausted Shuuichi limped into the room, slump-shouldered, bleary-eyed, still in the clothing he'd been wearing when they picked him up at the docks.

That he'd been crying was obvious, but they were old tears. Dried tears.

Hiro ducked around K and slipped his arm around his wilting friend, urging him to a chair.

"Are you okay?"

Shuuichi blinked at him, nodded, then shrugged.

"He didn't come home, did he?"

Shuuichi's eyes glittered beneath the heavy, swollen lids.

"You haven't been to bed, have you?"

Shuuichi bit his lip. Finally, in a voice hoarse with fatigue, he said, "I called everyone I could think of. Every bar in the city. The cops. His agent. His editor. Ayaka. Tatsuha...even his father." A shudder rippled through his slight frame and Hiro gave a soft, sympathetic curse.

He could only imagine what _that_ must have been like. Shu had fought for Yuki once. Had challenged, aided and abetted by Yuki's brother, Tatsuha, and with Ayaka's willing participation, the marriage Yuki's father and Ayaka's had planned for their children. Had announced, inside Yuki's father's temple, that he loved Yuki. Had profaned, in Uesugi-san's eyes, that holy place with his cross-dressing display and unholy proclamation. Uesugi-san had declared him a pervert and condemned him for compromising his son's immortal soul.

As if Shu had been the instigator. Innocent Shu-chan, who got his first real kiss from Yuki-san, the self-proclaimed gods' gift to women. Not that Shu was a woman. Worse, he was a gullible, romantic idiot caught in the throes of first love.

But Shuuichi, as if reading his thoughts, was shaking his head. "It . . . it wasn't that bad. He was...worried about Yuki, that was..."

The tears began in earnest, and Shuuichi twisted to bury his face in Hiro's chest. Hiro wrapped both arms around him and patted his back, meeting K's eyes over the sweaty, disheveled pink mop, completely at a loss what to do.

The inhouse phone broke the sob-filled silence. Sakano caught it before the second ring and following a brief murmured exchange, hung up. Their producer, calm now and serious, laid a hand on Hiro's shoulder.

"Seguchi-san wants to see him in his office."

✴✴✴

Seguchi Touma. His boss. The one person he hadn't called in his search for Yuki. Not a conscious omission, but an omission nonetheless.

Shuuichi stared at the door to Seguchi's office, a room he rarely entered. Sakano did, and K, and others came and went freely. But to him, Seguchi was still nearly as lofty a star as Sakuma Ryuichi.

Ryu, his idol, his performance god, the man who had inspired him to sing in the first place, had long since broken past the barrier of fannish worship and at times he and Nittle Grasper's legendary singer were downright buddies, but Seguchi Touma did nothing to bridge that barrier and everything to strengthen it.

Even Shuuichi could tell it served the president's purpose to be considered omniscient.

Seguchi and Ryu had performed together for years in the band Nittle Grasper, only to break up when Ryu decided to go solo and Seguchi decided to devote himself full time to the production company Nittle Grasper's success had created.

But Seguchi Touma was more than that. Seguchi Touma was married to Yuki's older sister. Seguchi had a vested personal interest in Yuki. A possessive interest, or so Shuuichi had always read their relationship. Now ...

_Touma found me.._.

Perhaps not possessive. Perhaps protective. Of a younger brother, albeit a brother-in-law, who had loved and had that love go disastrously wrong. Yuki himself hadn't been able to say what part Kitazawa Yuki had played that day; only that he'd killed him along with the men who'd raped him.

Had killed the man Seguchi-san had hired to take care of him, to make him feel safe in that new land.

Shuuichi couldn't begin to imagine how that fact must have haunted Seguchi-san over the years. If he hadn't hired Kitazawa, Kitazawa wouldn't be dead...and Seguchi's vulnerable young brother-in-law wouldn't have been...a murderer.

Or so the president might see it.

And early on Seguchi Mika, Seguchi-san's wife and Yuki's sister, had tried to use Yuki's interest in Shuuichi and Seguchi-san's control of Shuuichi's singing career to manipulate _him_ to manipulate_ Yuki_ into doing things Yuki didn't want to do In Yuki's best interests, of course.Seguchi-san, Mika-san...they all just wanted what was best for Yuki. They'd been there for Yuki...then. Surely, surely Yuki had gone to them last night, an 'of course' he should have realized right from the start.

A puzzle he should have been able to solve easily.

So many puzzles began to make a painful sort of sense. In that sense, Yuki had been right: that picture was an important piece of the puzzle that was Yuki Eiri.

Not the final piece, however. Of that Shuuichi was sure, past the dull throb in his head. Shuuichi still believed, in his heart, that this Kitazawa had done _something_ to deserve his fate. Yuki was many things, but murderer, even now, even after those life-changing events, was not one of those things.

He wanted to hold Yuki and tell him that, to make him see himself as Shuuichi did, to make him talk about that day and together, somehow, to find those final missing pieces to understand...why.

Instead, he'd been tongue-tied and stupid at the very moment Yuki needed him to be smart.

And now Yuki hated him. And now...

Shuuichi sighed, trying to hold back the tears. Now Seguchi-san wanted to see him. To tell him it was over because Yuki was too mad at him to tell him himself. Instead of being smart and understanding, he'd laughed, and Yuki, in a fit of rage had torn up that precious photo, a piece of which Shuuichi, hand deep in his pocket, rubbed like a totem every time he thought of his missing lover...

A tall form appeared at his side: K, who smiled reassuringly at him, then reached over his shoulder to knock on the door.

Seguchi Touma's office was huge, but sparsely furnished, with an amazing view of Tokyo beyond the desk.

Rather like Yuki's apartment.

Shuuichi found himself drawing parallels he'd never considered before, wondering who had influenced whom. Years of history. Years of trying to deal with a bitter childhood culminating in one moment of sheer horror.

He truly could not imagine.

At Seguchi-san's tacit invitation, he crossed that vast room to stand before his boss, squinting into the bright sunlight, trying to see Seguchi-san's face. His boss was a silhouette against the brightness...just as Yuki tended to position himself to his own advantage. Seguchi-san could see every shift in expression of the person he was addressing, while _his _thoughts remained a mystery.

Just like Yuki.

There was some sort of exchange between K and Seguchi-san, something about Seguchi wanting to talk to Shindou the person, not Shindou the singer. Dismissing K. Wanting to speak to Shuuichi alone.

But he'd known that, in his heart. Had welcomed K's help getting through that door, but now, it was between himself and this man. This man to whom the man he loved with all his heart turned in his time of need.

Because _his _love had proven too weak. Too foolish. Too young. Too much of everything except what Yuki had needed.

Seguchi-san asked, in that carefully pleasant voice that gave no clue to his thoughts, how Shuuichi's date with Yuki had been. Shuuichi, terrified of where this was headed, stammered something...he had no idea what...something stupid, no doubt.

"I'm glad," Seguchi-san said calmly. "You earned it. However...it's over now. I must ask you never to see him again."

It was only what he was expecting, still, it was like a hammer blow to his gut.

"I—"

"You may continue to stay in the apartment. The press has been informed and won't be bothering you. If they do, let me know and we'll silence them."

"I—"

"I'll send someone soon to clear out Eiri's things."

"But—"

Seguchi rose from his chair and turned to face the window.

"I made a mistake, Shindou-san. I thought you might be good for him. I was wrong. Eiri's gone and it's all your fault. I'm sorry if you're disappointed, but I must do what's best for Eiri. I'm certain, caring for him as you claim you do, you feel the same way."

"I do, but—"

It was no more than he'd expected. Seguchi had, after all, blamed Shu's influence for putting Yuki in the hospital, that fateful day Bad Luck's record sales topped a million. Seguchi had, even then, been trying to save Yuki from his, Shuuichi's, self-centered influence. Still...

Afraid to move, needing to know, Shuuichi tipped his head, straining to the side, trying to see that elusive, unreadable face, hoping for some hint of understanding, some hint that Yuki was safe.

"Please, Seguchi-san, where is he? Is he all right? I won't bother him. I–I do understand, but I need to know—"

He couldn't say it, but he needed to know if his screw up last night had put Yuki into the hospital. Again.

Seguchi-san turned, though his face remained a shadow against the sunlight.

"I don't know where he is."

Seguchi-san turned back to the window.

"But I intend to find out."

Relief, fear, and protest raged through him in quick succession. He bit his lip hard on all three, knowing he'd get no more from the president.

"That will be all, Shindou-san."

**TBC**

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

**A/N**: The Seguchi scene, for me, was the defining moment for Shuuichi in the anime. For all his later antics, his reaction to Seguchi's cease and desist declaration reveals how much he's changed as a result of the past few hours. It's really, as I think about it, what determined the overall tone for Shu in this fanfic. The next Chapter: **My Key, My Place, My Rules** continues the spin on the story and his character that this scene inspired. Unfortunately, it also rather well usurped the Shu tries to ship himself to NY scene, which I really regret. (Sniff. I love Shu's impersonation of a suitcase and the subsequent Shu/K scene(s).) Hope you enjoy anyway!

Regarding the changes to Yuki's previous scene...I'm really sorry, but that'll teach me to post before I've finished a story! Several people have commented, in the reviews as well as private emails, about the recurring themes (like "forever", "Indefinitely" and Yuki's arcade expertise) I wish I could say I'm really that clever and see those connections all right from the start, but the truth is, when something like that happens in a scene, I frequently have to go back in and "seed" the trigger or "salt" a previous scene in order to foreshadow or set up the bit of business in question. That scene of Yuki's is key to understanding his attitude during the climactic scene. Details shifted as I worked on the ending and I had to change the boat scene to reflect those changes. I hope both scenes are now done, but there's a good chance they'll be revised yet again before all is said and done. Yuki's boat scene still feels a bit like...a writer writing to him/herself to me, so I'm not totally happy with it.

**Reviews: **Quickly...AmyHavok, I'd love to read it! ANKuma: Big Shu hugs. One of the more frustrating parts of the story, and a reason I've been _forced _to write fanfic to figure out my own take on the events, is the ambiguity. Leaves so much room for personal interpretation! My take on how much Yuki remembers is based mostly on the details shown in the flashback as he's telling Shu compared to the flashback as he has it in NY. The bit I've added to PPorF adds a bit more detail as to how and what he's trying to sort out. Scorch66: that "Shuuichi discretion" line is one of my all time favorites that my inner muse has ever come up with! Thanks for singling it out! Sayuri-girl: one of the things I love best about Shu is how mature he can be one minute, then back to innocent lamb the next...and it's all real. He's quite a wonderful character. Supershu: Ooo, yum slurp. Daxemon: Oops! How could I? I totally agree about Shu. And, as you point out, those two key "tests" Yuki gives him pretty much prove the point. Yuki is not a stupid man; he doesn't have some deep-seated need to prove himself superior and wouldn't settle for a stupid lover. In one of the "between the lines" stories I think Hiro describes Shu as hedonistic (and probably something like self-absorbed) but as caring of others as he can be...if he thinks about it. It's that getting his attention with a two-by-four that's the hard part when he's on a roll. :D I think the real key is the childlike quality which he never quite loses. Every kid knows the world revolves around him/her. :D As for you being there for Yuki...I fear you'll need a leaded bat to get his attention, (you do realize all novelists are certain they have all the answers :D ) but have at! Tsu: Ditto! Will send a private email ASAP.

Virtual Pocky, cookies, (and for the health-conscious, apples and Adams peanut butter) to all of you who continue to read this. I love reviews and I'll be honest, they've helped me finally get around to putting this story's ending together, so as long as you're enjoying the story, they aren't wasted!

Big Shu hugs—Vin


	10. My Key, My Place, My Rules

**Disclaimer**: Gravitation is all Maki Murakami's brainchild. I'm just playing in the sandbox with no profit to myself other than joy.

**A/N**: This belongs, technically, with the "Between the Lines" series, but it has long since gone beyond a oneshot. "Seven Days" is such an enigmatic song and I've always been suspicious of the details of the date in the Odaiba Amusement park. This is my take on that day...and as it has grown, the subsequent events as well.

**Chapter Nine:** Shuuichi takes a stand.

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴  
**My Key, My Place, My Rules  
**by Vindaloo  
✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

The first time Shuuichi entered the studio, he'd been tired. The second, coming back from Seguchi-san's office, he was...beaten.

Hiro ached for his friend, wished to all the gods that he could help him, but there was nothing he could say. Yuki-san had confused him from the start. Yuki's off-again on-again treatment of the emotionally vulnerable Shuuichi had infuriated him, but as long as Shu was happy, he hadn't interfered.

Maybe he should have. Yuki had drawn his best friend away. The nights they'd once spent replaying every shared moment of every day were no more. There was this whole world Shuuichi had found into which Hiro simply didn't fit. He'd never felt welcome at Yuki's house, and now...now he was lost.

"Shuuichi-kun," Sakano said hesitantly, and Shuuichi looked up. The hopeless look in his big eyes ripped Hiro's heart out.

Sakano held out an envelope addressed to Shuuichi in a precise, calligraphic hand.

"This was delivered by courier to the front desk this morning. I didn't have a chance to give it to you before. Maybe ..." He left the rest unsaid, possibly as helpless as the rest of them.

Shuuichi lifted a hand slowly, accepting the envelope, then stood staring at it.

"It's from Yuki," he said softly, and caressed the surface with slender fingertips. His nails, never particularly smooth, were unusually ragged, a bloody edge or two attesting to a night of toothy assaults.

As if oblivious to his audience, he lifted the envelope, pressed his lips to the seal before easing the flap free. But there was no letter inside, no word of explanation, no expression of regret.

There was only a key.

Shuuichi stared at it, then closed his hand around it, one finger at a time.

"He's not coming back," he said quietly.

"How—" Sakano began, but K immediately silenced him with a look.

Shuuichi glanced up, Sakano to Suguru to K and finally to Hiro.

"It's the house key."

The one Yuki had refused him, saying he was damned if he'd have people sneaking up on him all the time. Evidently, he no longer felt a need to protect himself from invasion.

"Shu—"

Shuuichi silenced him with a lifted hand, turned slowly to K.

"K-san," he said quietly. "You know Japanese law pretty well, don't you?"

K nodded.

"I...I've been living with Yuki for several months now. He...sent me this key. It...it seems to me that he's entrusted his stuff to me...while—" A hard swallow interrupted him. "While he's gone."

K shrugged. "As good an explanation as any."

"S–seguchi-san told me I could stay in the apartment, but he was going to send someone to take all Yuki's stuff away." A visible shiver rippled through him. "I–I don't think that's right. He doesn't know where Yuki is. Yuki sent _me _the key, not Seguchi-san."

K frowned, a sentiment Hiro echoed, not comfortable at all with where Shuuichi seemed to be going.

"Will you...will you please take this and change the locks. I know Seguchi-san has one to the apartment. I want a combination lock, please. One I can reset to my own numbers. Can you do that?"

"Are you certain you want me to?"

That shiver returned, then abruptly vanished and Shuuichi nodded, his mouth firm. "I promise to take care of everything. I won't touch anything of Yuki's except..." He chewed his lip. "Cars don't like to sit unused, do they?"

K's face took on a look of surprise. "Wouldn't have thought you'd think of that, Shu-kun. No they don't, but mostly it's just the battery. I'll take care of that as well."

"Thank you."

"Seguchi isn't going to like it."

Shuuichi's mouth set hard and he frowned up at K. "Does he have any legal right to take it away?"

"None. Unless Yuki gives him permission."

Shuuichi gave a tiny, satisfied dip of his head. "To get that, he's got to find him. If Yuki tells me to let Seguchi-san have his stuff, I won't argue. I'll find another place and Seguchi-san can have his own locks installed. In the meantime, I'll make sure that if Yuki does come back, his home will be just like he left it."

"And if Touma decides to take it out on the band? There's more at stake here than you seem to realize, Shu-kun."

Shu started. Obviously, he hadn't thought of that. Those big eyes looked up at Hiro, a look that asked but did not beg, and Hiro looked at Suguru, who after a moment's uncertainty, nodded his tacit agreement.

Then, Hiro caught K's eye and warned him against the argument that lurked behind his canny blue gaze.

K frowned, but the argumentative look faded, and Hiro turned to Shuuichi, took his hand, and squeezed his answer.

Shuuichi's weary relief was all the reward Hiro, at least, needed.

Some things were more important than fame and money.

"I failed Yuki in everything else," Shuuichi said softly, closing his fingers slowly around his key. "I won't fail him in this."

"I think you take on too much guilt, Shindou-san."

As one, they froze and as one, they turned to face the door and the president of NG.

"Sacho-san!" Sakano stuttered, tongue-tied as always around Seguchi. "I—"

Seguchi lifted a hand to silence the producer.

"I think you take on too much guilt, but I can't help but admire your loyalty to a man who patently deserted you."

"I don't know that, sir," Shuuichi said quietly, though Hiro could tell he was shaking with fear. "All I know is he's disappeared. If he comes back, I'm going to make certain he has a home waiting for him and not a cold, empty apartment."

Seguchi-san stared at Shuuichi for a long moment, then turned to K. "K-san, please disregard Shindou-san's instructions."

Shuuichi jumped to his feet; Seguchi lifted a hand. "There's no need, Shindou-san. I shall respect your judgement in this case. You will, however, forgive me if I or my wife drops in for the occasional inspection. Though I respect your good intentions, I feel we have the right to protect our family's property."

Shuuichi shrugged and muttered, "Just so long as you leave it alone. Yuki's very private. Going through his things would be like..." His voice began to shake. "L–like saying he's...dead or something."

"And do you believe such fate is possible?"

Shuuichi's brilliant eyes widened, an unreadable flash beneath lowered brows. After a long pause, he whispered: "If he were dead, I'd know."

Seguchi-san frowned at him for an even longer moment, then, "I believe you would, Shindou-san." And in an unprecedented move, he pressed Shuuichi's shoulder briefly. "Time enough for rearranging furniture once we've found him."

Shuuichi was shaking visibly now, and his eyes lowered respectfully. "Thank you, Sacho-san."

Seguchi nodded to Shuuichi, then to each of them in turn before making a typically smooth exit.

✴✴✴

The door clicked shut behind the president and Shuuichi drew his first steady breath since he'd arrived in the studio.

The question he'd been dreading had been asked, and his heart had found it's answer. Yuki was alive. He knew it. Cheesy as it sounded, a part of him would have died right along with him. Yuki _was _alive, dammit, and if Yuki came back, everything he'd left would be waiting.

Except, maybe, for him.

He'd taken a stand and his band had stood behind him, had risked everything in that support. For all he ached to run madly about the globe searching for Yuki, for all Yuki might even be expecting him to do that, to prove his love or something, he couldn't.

He ...owed... his band. Owed the fans who'd bought those million copies of their album and would hopefully flock to buy tickets to the concerts. Owed K-san and Sakano ... and even Seguchi Touma, who could have made his life a living, tormentuous hell for that decision.

He looked around to his friends, took in their worried looks and refused to accept them. Yuki was gone. That was Yuki's choice. Hiro and Suguru had stood behind him when he'd needed them. Damned if he'd fail them now.

He grabbed his baseball cap, turned it around backwards and headed for the sound booth.

"C'mon, guys," he said to his fellow Bad Luckers, "We've got a tour to prepare."

**TBC**

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

**Next Chapter**: "Pizza in Seattle" or "How I Got to NY Without Touma/K Catching Me". Yes, we get back to Yuki-darling at last, as he begins his American Adventure.

**A/N:** Hope you liked this. I freely admit, I love this chapter, but don't feel you have to pussy foot because of it. I know it plays hob with several elements from the anime. If it doesn't ring true, I'm as interested to know that (as well as why, if you don't mind taking the time) as I am from those for whom it does work.

**Reviews:** As always, big huge virtual Shu hugs to all of you readers and an extra bit of Pocky to the reviewers. I know the update notifications have been screwed up...wondered if I should notify regular readers or not. If that wouldn't be too cheeky, let me know, and I'll try to put together my own notification list...or email me at my yahoo address (vindalootooatyahoodotcom) if you want me to notify you...how 'bout we do it that way?

Anyway, **Sayuri-girl: **Thanks! It's funny what you think of when you're writing that you don't necessarily think of when you're watching. When I started reconstructing that image of Touma's office and Touma standing against the window, I just suddenly flashed on Shu's first image of Yuki against the streetlamp. That and the two big windowed, sparsely furnished rooms (which might well simply be an artifact of the anime's design team's desire for simple sets! LOL) just made me think of all the ways in which Touma must have influenced Yuki over the years. Hmm...which makes me wonder now if Yuki is aware of it and whether or not he fights it. Oo-oo...

**Saint Germain:** Thanks so much. As I've said before, I just flat love this story. I also very much appreciate the limitations a thirteen episode anime that had to appeal to so many demographics put on the writing team. I honestly feel they did quite a phenomenal job. The more I "test out" other anime, the more impressed I am with both MM's original manga and the anime. Personally, I'm getting a serious kick out of just playing with it in this venue where I can address the more intricate implications as I read it and share them with such a great readership. And I second your advice to your daughter, and humbly thank you for your encouragement. I'm one of the lucky ones. I get to do this for a good portion of my living now, for all I still feel like a novice...or maybe a journeyman, because there's always so much to learn! However I'm eternally grateful for the circumstances which made it possible. I didn't start writing fiction until I was in my mid-thirties, and now, I can't imagine _not_ doing it. I honestly think my brain would explode!

**Animefreak20006**: Heh heh...If it were to stop here, I'd stand right with you! OTOH, I can't say that I really want to do Touma in, though it's definitely painful what he does at this point. (I'll be interested in your reaction to this chapter.) I'm very grateful for Moon's review (see next response) as it says much better than any response I could make how I react to Touma and his feelings for Yuki. I'm the first to admit, the implications for a ... less savory relationship between Touma and Yuki are definitely there in the manga, and it's one reason I prefer the anime-Touma, but overall, I think Moon states my position beautifully.

**Moon**! Thank goodness you're back. I was hoping it was the weirdness with alerts that had brought your silence and not disappointment in the story. I hope you all realize I love all responses, positive and negative. They all help me improve. Anyway...As always, you've nailed just what I was trying to catch. Are you sure you're not me sleepwriting to myself? No, you couldn't be because you've got those wonderful stories over in the Alexander playground and I KNOW I didn't write those. :D Seriously, thanks again for the terrific feedback. You've got my impression of Touma nailed as well as the Yuki/Shu dilemma.

I've said before, I think the writers of the anime did an amazing job of picking out the true underlying storyline of the manga. They had the advantage of being able to look at the entire thing...or at least most of it, and focusing the story beautifully. Maki Murakami was writing month to month and like all manga I've seen, takes some charming but totally superfluous flights of fancy. Not that they can't be made relevant, but the totally madcap antics are more fun than necessary for that fundamentally resonant story.

Curiously, that little bit about Yuki possibly taking a dive was actually added afterward...(it's the small update I stuck into that scene after the initial posting.) I got to prepping the scene I just posted and realized...OMG, Shu's sure he's alive...BUT...and of course, that whole concept just makes this whole chapter ever so much more powerful. It's bits like that that keep me editing so fanatically. I just KNOW there's more, if I just look at it long enough. And when I post, I'm always left wondering...did I make the point? Or What did I leave out that I'm going to regret? Ah, the joys of creative insecurities! Sometimes you just have to let go.

Which is another reason for the wonder of these sites that gives chap by chap feedback. LOVE IT.

Posting...sheesh. I'm putting up a handful of "dummy" documents so the next time the techno-team starts playing update games I've got "spares" to overwrite with whatever chapter needs updating.

Speaking of which: I almost lost my access to my login. If I ever just totally disappear...please check the reviews of my current story: if I have site problems, I'll try to post it there. Also, check over at Gurabiteshiyon dot net, I echo my postings over there.

And speaking of GB: **Daxemon**: I really try to stay with the anime as much as possible, though with the next bit, I have a rather fun diversion with Yuki. I'm with you on the Yuki in NY. It's heartbreaking. I HOPE I do it justice. I'm trying. It's still in major editing mode. The incredibly hot dangerous-Yuki shot in the bum scene...hmmm...let's call it the Yuki gets a gun scene:D, is one of those "only the anime can do it justice" moments. It's a profound moment as I see it, but we're in Yuki's VP, so he can't really express how dangerously gorgeous he looks. Well...I suppose he could, but it would kinda break the mood! Heh heh.

**Fuzzybunnytoo**: I agree, conversation is easier to read, especially on the computer screen, but this is a pretty introspective section of the story, so I'm not sure how much I can do along that line. Where possible, I'll use the cattle prod and make the lads yelp. Meantime, I'll see if there isn't something I can do to maybe break up the longer paragraphs, which might help. (Ooo...see you came back to ffnet to post again. Aren't you sweet! (Hugging my virtual Shu-plushie)

If you've got your Explorer window set at full screen, one thing you might try doing is narrowing the window so the lines aren't quite so long. Make it look more like a paperback page. The paragraphs will be longer, but what I've found is that if my eyes have to actually travel along the line, it's much harder to keep my place in those longer paragraphs of prose. Try to make it a size that you can just follow the text down the page rather than across it and see if that doesn't help. Thanks for hanging in there!

**Lisa**: Thanks so much. I'm actually kind of surprised there aren't more "between the lines" type stories, but selfishly, I'm glad, because I did have a fairly wide open field. I've got several other stories up, as you've probably noticed. The one I really hope anyone who hasn't read it reads after this one is "Yushu" as it does fill in one of the big questions left still unresolved at the end of this story. (And yes...Dream Date has an ending! YAYAYAY! Still being edited, but it is there!)

**ANKuma**: Whew...you've got more guts than I have taking on the details of the NY era. I'll be _very _interested to see what you come up with. Eiri has to have gotten some real mind-twisting signals from Yuki during that time. I agree...Eiri is an amazingly complex, fascinating character.

(And back to ffnet...wow...you guys are coming in faster than I can get posted!)

**Evil Riggs:** Thanks! I'm trying. :D

**AoMe Hs:** Not to worry. Homework first...ALWAYS.

**Scorch**: I fear Touma's buttinaciousness is pretty well ingrained by now. Hope this chap makes him a bit more palatable. I do see him as truly caring about Yuki, in whatever way you interpret it, and Shu's influence as negative...at least until Shu reacts so maturely in his office. I like to give him credit for noticing that.

**FraisesPasteque**: (gotta ask you about that name!) Lotsa reviews! Glad you found the story despite the alert screwup. I'd totally forgotten about that bit about Yuki and writing in the manga, but between you, me and the fencepost, until I was, like, thirty-six, I never considered writing either! My older sister wrote, I drew. Lots. Was making my living as a comic artist when the right person suggested I trying writing, and have never regretted the shift! As for hating it...heck, who in their right mind believes anything Yuki says! Especially when it's about liking something. If you were to ask him, Manga-Yuki wouldn't even admit to liking BEER. :D

re: dialogue and bad "pointers" as we call 'em...I need to go take a look at that. It's a weakness in my writing. I try to keep the dialogue as snappy as possible and sometimes that means I really under "point." Thanks!

The differences between the manga and anime really are fascinating and fun. I actually did my first "between the lines" based on the manga. When I finish this little monster, I'm going to treat myself with going back and re-reading the manga, which I haven't done since the first time through. You'll probably see quite a few additions to "BTL" then.

Strawberry Milkshake Oreos?!?!?!? the mind boggles!

**RHP**: Shu hugs and virtual pocky!

**BlooDy-May**: There you go, threatening to decrease my hit count again. Here's your update. DON'T YOU DARE DEMISE!

Now...I'm getting this posted before more thought-provoking reviews get posted. You folks truly are the best!

As always, big virtual Shu hugs to everyone.

Vin

(We LOVES reviews!)


	11. Pizza in Seattle

**Disclaimer**: Gravitation is all Maki Murakami's brainchild. I'm just playing in the sandbox with no profit to myself other than joy.

**A/N**: This belongs, technically, with the "Between the Lines" series, but it has long since gone beyond a oneshot. "Seven Days" is such an enigmatic song and I've always been suspicious of the details of the date in the Odaiba Amusement park. This is my take on that day...and as it has grown, the subsequent events as well.

Okay, m'darlin' fellow Yuki-fen...I won't keep you in suspense. Besides, this one is not only short, it was too much fun to keep to myself, so: On with Eiri!

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴  
**Pizza in Seattle  
**By Vindaloo  
✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

Eiri stepped off the plane in Seattle, unable to believe he'd actually escaped Japan without Touma's men stopping him.

He'd paid cash for his plane ticket, but he'd had to show his passport more than once, and he didn't trust the airline privacy rules to withstand a direct Seguchi assault. He could only hope a circuitous routing from Japan to Australia, to Seattle (from which he would, eventually, head for New York via the ultimate in anonymous public transport) might actually manage to slow the president of NG down.

He had no illusions about his ability to continue eluding his brother-in-law. Eventually, Touma would find him and confront him. By the time that happened, however, he planned to have his answers...one way or another.

Seattle was a good way-station. He...worried about Shuuichi. There was a well-established Japanese community here, one that would have news...such as a delay in the hot new band's scheduled tour.

Not to mention, it was about as far from New York as you could get and still be in the same country.

Fortunately, he spoke English like a native, albeit one with better than average grammar, and American customs flowed back to him as if he'd never left, with one huge difference:

He had to wait until he was outside the terminal to light up.

Damned health nuts.

If it weren't for the latte stands at every corner, he'd have slit his wrists halfway through customs.

He hailed a taxi between puffs, chain-smoked his way to a randomly chosen small hotel somewhere to the north of SeaTac along highway 99, put out the cig long enough to hand over cash at the desk—no questions asked—paid the extra charge for cable, and immediately upon entering the rather moldy-smelling smoking room, lit another cigarette and tuned into the Asian network, hoping for the news.

He got anime.

How nice.

He kicked off his shoes, pulled a battered phone book out of the knife-scarred bedside table, and looked up the nearest pizza delivery. Choosing a safe, if unimaginative, pepperoni and green pepper, thin crust pizza, he tossed his suitcase onto the lumpy bed and after jerking it's price tags off, pulled out the sweatsuit he'd purchased in an Australian airport, along with ridiculously-priced toiletries. Hanging his sport coat on the one hanger provided, he drowned his cig in the rather hideously stained toilet and stepped into the steaming shower.

He had to have discovered the worst damned hotel in the whole fucking state. God help his neighbors if grunts and screams and creaking beds disrupted his sleep.

At least the towels were clean, if the smell of bleach meant anything.

He'd just begun a most satisfying wet-Shuuichi fantasy, when a loud knock on the door announced the arrival of pizza and beer.

Damn. It'd better be done. He hated doughy pizza crust.

He escaped a shower gone suddenly cold, wrapped a towel around his waist and grabbed his wallet as he passed the lop-sided dresser.

Another sharp rap stopped mid-pound as he flung the door open and caught the wrist of the offending fist.

"Relax, buddy," he muttered on a grunt, and having ascertained (from the smell emanating from the box) a well-cooked pizza and (from the bag on the ground) sufficient beer to wash it down, released the hand to flip open his wallet. "How much do I owe you?"

When no answer was forthcoming, he frowned up at the kid in baggy shorts and back-turned baseball cap, a silhouette painfully reminiscent of another kid, the one responsible for the tenting of the towel around his waist.

The pizza kid was staring at him, his eyes wide and (gods help him) fascinated.

"What's _your_ problem?"

The kid shook himself awake and blushed. "Sorry, sir. $15.69."

He exchanged a twenty for the box and recalling the local custom: "Keep the change, kid."

"Uh, thank you, sir. Uh...sir?"

"What?" he snarled, hungry, tired and wanting his beer.

"Uh...if you don't mind my asking, what's a guy like you doing—"

"Fuck. Finish that line, kid, and I swear to God, I'll demand my tip back. Just gimme my beer, will you?"

"Uh...sure." With a glance into the room—likely looking for the hooker he assumed Yuki had in here with him—the kid nodded and, with a final, blushing review of Yuki's under-clad self, darted for his car.

Damned prudish country.

Yuki yawned and kicked the door shut, tossing his dinner on the bed and jerking a can free of the bag. Five left after that one. Damn. He hoped he'd ordered enough.

He flung himself down on the bed and flipped the box open, settled back into the lumpy pillows to watch the end of the anime, leaving the mute on. As he began his second can and third slice, the news arrived at last.

Sure enough, there he was. Smiling. Happy. Content. On schedule, according to the bottom crawl.

One question answered: Shu was doing just fine.

Shu had said once, as Yuki lay in hospital, that if Yuki left him, he'd die, and it was just as he'd suspected: that prediction was about as substantial as the brat who'd uttered it. Shu wasn't in love with him; Shu was just in love with the idea of being in love.

Which was just as well. Made it hell and away easier to do what had to be done. He thumbed the TV off and tossed the remote onto the floor along with the rest of the pizza. The beer...those were lined up on the side table, ready to perform their duty: make one fucking idiot of an author drunk enough to fall asleep. Tired as he was, five in rapid succession should do the trick, leaving one for breakfast.

Worked for him.

**TBC**

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

**A/N:** Heh heh. Well, it was fun for me! Was it fun for you? If last chap was my fav Shu chap, this was my fav Yuki chap.

For the record...yeah, I'm a Seattle-ite (well, Renton-ite, which is "South" Seattle) by birth. Highway 99 is the main airport to Seattle highway, though it has other names (and competition) now. I do _not _have a specific hotel in mind, so don't go looking! No Yukies will be found hiding out in low places! Other places that will be mentioned in Yuki's Great American Adventure are also places I'm familiar with from my own cross-country travels.

**Next up:** Silence. Three guesses, first two don't count, as to what happens.

**More A/N: **I'm going to resist the lure to update this week. I've got a major head shift to make, now I've got this story finished-but-for-edits. Have to apply what I've discovered the last few months to my real writing for a few days and get back on track there. Please enjoy the last few chapters, give me feedback on anything that doesn't ring true. This doesn't mean I'll disappear altogether: still have lots of this story and others to post. I just won't be actively writing new stuff for quite a while.

I'll be back next weekend with "Silence".

**Reviews**: I'm resisting individual answers and making just one comment:

Ah, c'mon, guys, don't tell me you actually _believe_ Touma's sincere? This is Seguchi Touma we're talking about! Shuuichi got him, legally called his bluff. Think he's going to do anything so uncool as to fight about it when he can undermine Shu's sudden backbone with a bit of seeming kindness?

Besides, this way, he can _still_ get in Yuki's house, if that's what he wants. I'll admit, don't hold your breath. I didn't write that. I just wanted the marvelous dichotomy that's Touma in here somewhere. Besides, as I see it, Touma respects people who stand up to him...I mean, in the anime, he _smiles_ when Shu batters his office door in to tell them the song is finished (and tells _Sakano_ not Shu to fix it!), so, yeah, I think there's a smidge...just a Touma-style smidge...of sincerity in that hand he puts on Shu's shoulder.

But only a smidge.

Please R&R. I've got the ending, and will post fairly quickly now, but details can change (and always for the better!) depending on feedback.


	12. Silence

**Disclaimer**: Gravitation is all Maki Murakami's brainchild. I'm just playing in the sandbox with no profit to myself other than joy.

**A/N**: This belongs, technically, with the "Between the Lines" series, but it has long since gone beyond a oneshot. "Seven Days" is such an enigmatic song and I've always been suspicious of the details of the date in the Odaiba Amusement park. This is my take on that day...and as it has grown, the subsequent events as well.

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴  
**Silence  
**by Vindaloo  
✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

Shuuichi had...changed.

Hiro couldn't quite put his finger on it, but his best friend was just plain different since Yuki Eiri disappeared. Oh, he was dynamite onstage, and he charmed every reporter he encountered; his popularity was soaring, the concert tour had sold out only hours after the tickets went on sale; but Shuuichi himself...had changed. Off stage, he was quieter, more focused, but the change went beyond that. Time was, Hiro never had to worry about what Shuuichi was thinking, because no thought ever stayed in his head; they were all shared with his 'best friend in the whole world.'

Shindou Shuuichi's best friend. That would be him.

Even the times he was with Yuki—those parts of his life which had had no place for 'best friends'—there'd been little left to Hiro's imagination. Now...now there was a side to Shuuichi he simply didn't recognize. A protected, guarded side.

Shuuichi insisted that he was over Yuki Eiri, that the only thing that mattered now was the tour and becoming number one. He was determined, so he quietly claimed, to surpass even the revived Nittle Grasper's popularity, and if Hiro were to base his opinion on the majority of those surrounding him, he'd be relaxed, happy and enjoying the ride.

Sakano, Bad Luck's permanently stressed producer, was positively spinning with delight, K wore a satisfied smirk, day in and day out. Nittle Grasper itself took Shuuichi's challenge in good humor. Seguchi Touma expressed great satisfaction with Bad Luck's progress. Noriko, Seguchi's fellow Nittle Grasper keyboardist, was openly amazed at how rapidly Shuuichi made the shift to a true professional.

Only Nittle Grasper's front man, the legendary Sakuma Ryuichi, Shuuichi's lifelong hero and role-model, seemed to eye Shuuichi's rise to the top with something approaching Hiro's reservations.

Hiro wished he knew the brilliant, if rather schizophrenic, vocalist well enough to discuss the sense of...wrongness...he felt around Shuuichi these days. Unfortunately, Ryuichi, who had once sought out Shuuichi's company on a regular basis, had grown remote, not only from Shu, but from the entire band.

It wasn't, Hiro was certain, jealousy or anger or some objection to the friendly verbal gauntlet Shuuichi had cast. Ryuichi was genuinely fond of Shuuichi. Ryu had seen something from the start in Shuuichi which no one else, not even Yuki, could begin to comprehend. There'd been a meeting of souls. Ryu had teased and cheered, challenged and encouraged the much younger singer, perhaps the only man living with the capacity to usurp Ryu's position at the top of the charts.

Ryu didn't resent that, as some might. Ryu, at least as Hiro read him, had welcomed not only the challenge, which pushed him as a performer for the first time in years, but...the company, there in that rarified atmosphere. More, Hiro suspected Ryu had found something much more important...perhaps a renewal of an innocense, a...purity of purpose Ryuichi had been in danger of losing altogether.

At least...that was how Hiro read it.

He didn't really know. He only knew that as the wrongness he felt in Shuuichi persisted, Ryu-the-somber grew ever more common, until finally, Ryu-the-Kumagoro-man disappeared altogether.

Shuuichi seemed oblivious—most of the time. Hiro caught the occasional glimpse of the old Shu, uncertain and vulnerable, watching his hero perform, watched those big, purple eyes track Ryu as he came off the stage, more often than not with little more than a generic nod to acknowledge Bad Luck's presence. Shuuichi's head would drop for a moment, then rise again with that determined expression, and moments later, he'd be on stage singing his heart out, as if he were the happiest man on Earth.

And then, he'd go 'home.' To that place to which he finally had a key. Hiro had offered crash space in his apartment whenever Shu needed it and he was ready, on a daily basis, for a pink-haired freeloader to appear on his doorstep...

But the hoped-for freeloader never arrived. Shu went to that place religiously, guarding, so he insisted, Yuki Eiri's belongings. Unlived-in places were subject to robbers, he insisted, and Yuki had several expensive paintings and other 'arty things.' He'd even asked K to find someone super-reliable to stay there while Bad Luck was on tour.

Yuki's laptop traveled to and from work with Shuuichi and was never out of his sight, even sitting in its case at Shuuichi's feet when he was recording. In the apartment, on the desk where Shuuichi had found the computer, was a note to Yuki, telling him where it was and not to worry.

All for a man who hadn't been heard from in a month. Not even Touma knew where he was. Not that Touma admitted that to any of them, but if Touma knew, K would know and if K knew and didn't tell them, K would have, as K well knew, a Serious Problem on his hands once his deception was discovered. So, Hiro believed K didn't know and if K didn't know, Touma didn't know, and if Touma didn't know, the only one who _did_ know was Yuki himself.

And Yuki, obviously, wasn't inclined to tell anyone.

Then, less than a week before their kick-off concert, it happened.

Bad Luck were guests on a radio show, answering questions about the upcoming tour in between introducing tracks of their album. As so often happened these days, Nittle Grasper (or rather two-thirds of Nittle Grasper) were just down the hall giving an interview to the station's affiliated teen magazine. NG's PR department made a habit of putting the two bands in the same vicinity, of using every possible means to imply an intense rivalry.

Anything to sell records.

The whole thing just set Hiro's teeth on edge and broke his heart, when he saw what it was doing to his gentle idiot of a best friend.

Still, the interview went smoothly enough, Shuuichi, as normal, handling the bulk of the talking. He sounded...tired, to Hiro, answering shyly and quietly, answers utterly lacking his trademark moments of insanity and bravado, and a best friend could only be glad that this was the final scheduled appearance before the big kick-off concert at Zepp Tokyo.

Shuuichi needed rest. Badly. He was tempted to ask Shuuichi to come stay with him, just for these few days before the tour, but he knew Shu's answer without asking: Shu would never leave that apartment for anything less than the tour itself. Not so long as there was a snowball's chance in hell that Yuki might return.

They left the studio, bowing their thanks, turned...and came face to face with Noriko and Ryuichi striding toward them.

Hiro wished he didn't suspect Ryu of lying in wait, but somehow...damned if he didn't suspect that very thing. The tension in the air was palpable. This time, Ryu didn't even look at them. Noriko, with a puzzled glance at her band mate, stepped forward to greet them pleasantly. Shuuichi responded with a relieved smile.

Ryu just floated past without so much as a glance.

"Konichiwa, Saku—" Shuuichi, twisting to follow that pointedly oblivious, grim profile, gave a tiny gasp, then tried again, that desperate plea for acknowledgment finally making it into his voice. "K–konichiwa, Saku—S–Saku—Sa—sa—" With each syllable, his voice grew weaker, his eyes wider, more desperate.

Ryu turned at last and stared the short distance down on his rival, a hard, unforgiving stare that scanned Shu, head to foot, then turned and walked away.

Shuuichi's hand rose to his throat, tears flooded his eyes...and without a word, he ran.

✴✴✴

Shuuichi stared about the apartment, so familiar, yet so foreign. Without Yuki, it was cold. Barren. Utterly lacking that hidden warmth, that teasing challenge that was the essence of Yuki.

Lacking as well those elusive Yuki scents. His spicy aftershave, tobacco, coffee...food simmering on the stove.

Food. He should eat something. K had intended to take them out to dinner after the radio show, but Shuuichi had ducked away before K and his guns could stop him. He'd run home, avoiding Hiro and all the others, unwilling to admit, even to himself, what had just happened to him. Had used Ryu's pointed rejection of him and all he was to its full advantage.

Had it hurt? Of course it had. That wasn't why he'd run.

He dropped his backpack to the floor and slipped his shoes off, headed for the kitchen. He'd never be even so much as a wretched cook, but he could manage to heat soup and instant ramen without destroying Yuki's head-chef-worthy kitchen.

As the microwave counted off the seconds, he headed reluctantly for the bathroom. His hand, acting without guidance from his brain, flicked the switch beside the door. Light flooded the room, and he was no longer alone. He started, then silently cursed himself for a fool as he realized it was just his own reflection, staring back at him. Pale. Gaunt. Almost unrecognizable.

He studied that face, wondering, not for the first time, how he'd ever thought he could hold the interest of someone like Yuki Eiri. Beautiful. Sophisticated. Perfect in every way Yuki Eiri.

Tears filled the stupid, too-big, too-round, too..._too..._eyes that stared back at him. He gave another silent curse and thrust Yuki from his mind...at least as far as Yuki was every willing to be thrust. He missed Yuki, with all his heart. He cried every night for his absent lover, prayed through his tears that he was safe.

But it wasn't for Yuki that he'd cried today.

Opening his mouth as large as it would go, he tried to angle his face so the overhead light would illuminate deep into the cavern, but no matter how he twisted and turned, it remained a shadowed mystery.

There was an emergency flashlight plugged into the outlet in the hallway. He pulled it free of its charger, it came on, and, returning to the bathroom, he angled the small, bright beam down his throat. Funny thing. It just looked...like a throat.

"Ah–ah–ah—" he said...or tried to say. All that came out was a tired little hiss of air.

He dropped the flashlight and tried again, pressing his hand to his throat the way his voice coach had him do to 'feel' his vowels. He tried again, and again...nothing.

Panic struck. He slammed a fist into that traitorous mirror. It shattered. Fell in pieces to the floor.

Miraculously, his hand was untouched.

Staring at that wonder, he came aware of the microwave, chiming its successfully completed mission to the world. Still staring at his miraculously spared hand, he wandered back to the kitchen and opened the door to the microwave.

It's job done, the microwave shut up. Silent.

Almost as silent as he was.

Except _his_ job...was far...very far...from complete.

**TBC**

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

**Next**: Yo-Yo! Yuki hits the midwest; Shu takes up wrestling. I'll try to get it up tomorrow.

**Reviews:** Several of you have mentioned that you enjoy these posted answers. I'm relieved, since it's so very much easier than trying to email individually. I understand why the sites protect the emails of the members, but it does make personal responses really cumbersome. Also, when it comes to questions, I always figure for each person who actually posts a question, there are probably a half dozen others wondering the same thing. This way, I have a fighting chance of explaining to everyone.

Let's start with Gurabite for a change.

**Lisa:** Thank you so much.

**Fuzzybunnytoo: **Ah, but when has Yuki cared about his ulcer:D Have you ever had a _bad_ cheese pizza? But you make a valid point. He should at least _consider_ it, shouldn't he? Besides, it suggests a potential funny line. Hmmm...I feel a revision of that chapter coming on...How 'bout some virtual saki instead? And, oh, yeah, I'm plenty old enough. ;-D

**DuosAngel: Thanks! **I figure good old Touma has most of those around him totally paranoid, especially Yuki!

**AmyHavok**: Thank you! I do love playing in Yuki's head.

**Daxemon**: That scene would have been very interesting from Touma's POV. Maybe I'll write it and post it, once I've got this done. He's such a wonderfully canny fellow. And I admit, I loved leaving the lad frustrated. Writing is such a give and take...I wanted to expand on the fantasy, but it just wasn't as funny with it in there. Maybe when I write Touma's version of the Shuuichi situation, I'll write his fantasy..._I've got it!_ Dream Date Blooper Reels...Hmmmmmmmmmm. And you've nailed Yuki. I so hope the NY scenes live up to everyone's expectations.

**FraisesPasteque**: Love the background on the name! Ren Faire, eh? I thought most of those were in the summer. Such fun. Wow...If I keep this story going long enough, the lot of us can sit down to a virtual banquet! Toast in your pillow!?! Now...why didn't I think of that...What a marvelous image. Of course, Yuki's probably sharing his room with untold numbers of cock roaches out after pizza. Thanks for the head's up on the dialogue. Easy fix and I'll try to get that updated this weekend.

**Sayuri-girl**: As in the anime, Yuki will get enough satisfaction to go home with a clear conscience. The balance of his answers, he finds in one of my other fics, **Yushu**.

**Supershu-chan**: And the banquet just got better! Wheeee. I admit, I had a ball with that chapter. We have one more Yuki-chuckle scene before we get to the more serious NY stuff. I love pestering him.

**BlooDy-MaY**: Get better soon! I'll try and get a couple more chapters up this weekend. I'm busy doing demolition on our flower beds right now...taking out several really ugly, head-high shrubs which requires a great deal of stubborn persistence. All I have it a pair of pruning nippers, a shovel, water and a great deal of hatred for these things which take up lots of space that could be making flowers:D I have to admit, I'm not fond of GravEx. I haven't read the whole thing...going to order it one of these days, I suppose, but I don't like the first few tracks much.

Do you know...I somehow totally missed the second chapter of **Blessings**! I can't believe it! I think you posted right when we were closing and things move through so fast on ffnet...I thought I had an alert for it, but I must not. Headed there as soon as I get this posted, and eagerly anticipate an update.

**Saint Germain:** Thank you. I hope your daughter finds the same joy in writing I have. You don't need to do it for a living for that. In fact...the publishing industry seems devoted to making it unfun! We've got a bit to go before NY, but we'll get there. All hail, fellow ... mature person. :D

**Scorch**: Yuki's doing quite a number on himself, isn't he? I do rather like the image of him sprawled on a bed watching anime...and without Shu there controlling the remote! LOL

**R-HP**: Thanks!

**AoMe Hs**: You'd think the blond lug would figure it out, wouldn't you?

**Earthlight**: Mostly what Yuki hates is not being able to smoke! I figure he's not really happy anywhere right now; he just has to realize that's because there's no Shuuichi there!

**Tsu**: I'll add a few bakas myself. The lad is definitely into denial and his memory certainly is convenient, isn't it:D And speaking of wonderful characterizations...when are we getting more of **Doubt**?

**Sriz**: I adore the little flutterby-brain Shuuichi, too. Quite honestly, I just don't write him very well. There are some writers out there that catch that side of him beautifully. (Don't ask for authors or titles...I just know I've read some terrific ones...I've really got to pay more attention to who writes what...speaking of flutterby-brains.)

**Moon71**: Heh heh. I'm really trying to get this posted before my real book starts rolling. Once Serghei really begins talking again, I'm going to have to disappear for a while. And I'm not buying your explanation! I remember my two trips to England (and Scotland) very clearly, thank you very much, so I can't be you!

(Eiri: Ah, but what about the trips you _don't_ remember?)

(Vin: always one in the crowd.)

Thanks again for your indepth feedback.

I totally agree with your assessment of Touma (and GravEx, frankly. Not my cuppa, from what I've seen, though I admit, I haven't read the whole thing yet, just a few posted scanlation tracks.). I enjoy reading about other interpretations, certainly, but this is the way I see him.

I believe your interpretation of the key scene is actually what the writers meant. Certainly, that's the way I took it at first, but as I began writing the fics, the whole key thing sort of took on a life of it's own in my own head and my stories. It's predicated on this scene and the scene with Tatsuha, where Tats brings up the whole matter of the number of women who have keys to Yuki's place. (And if you recall, he _didn't_ have a key at that time. He rang the bell and Tats answered.) As I read Yuki, giving Shu a key would be equating him with those women...but I admit, this interpretation probably never entered the heads of the legitimate script writers:D

Yuki's long route to NYC: I had to do something! The timing is just screwball through this whole segment. And, _oi_, the timing of getting Shu to NYC and back in time for the concert! Sheesh... I won't be going into much detail of Yuki's cross country adventure. It would really slow the pacing without a whole lot of added interest, but there'll be another couple small Yuki-scenes along the way, just for giggles.

Seattle's the perfect landing zone for him, since I90 goes all the way across the country, and is one of the easiest routes across the Rockies (having driven most of them, I can attest to this!) Since I wanted him to waste time until Shu's concert (another motivation I had to invent!) the bus trip was a good way for him avoid Touma.

One of the things about Yuki that has to be true in order for me to buy into the character and his ongoing obsession with Kitazawa is that he _doesn't_ recall the proactive part Yuki played in his assault. Kitazawa has a stranglehold on his subconscious, something he wouldn't have if he could be made into a clear-cut villain. (IMO, of course!) However, the differences in the details of the flashbacks on the boat and later in NYC all involve Kitazawa. There's nothing negative about Kitazawa on the boat, while in NYC, we have him coming onto Eiri, the passing of the ten dollar bill, and the "after you." from Kitazawa. Eiri's still confused about the why (something I go into in **Yushu**, as you already know. :D) but the what is finally revealed, releasing his heart from Kitazawa's absolute control.

As for depression...oh, yeah. Been there, done that, got a box full of t-shirts!

Again...my thanks to everyone for their continuing interest and feedback. I love you all!—Vin


	13. Yoyo!

**Disclaimer**: Gravitation is all Maki Murakami's brainchild. I'm just playing in the sandbox with no profit to myself other than joy.

**A/N**: This belongs, technically, with my "Between the Lines" series, but it has long since gone beyond a oneshot, so I'm giving it its own slot. As there seems to have been some confusion, my "Between the Lines" series is a series of one shots designed to expand upon, not to rewrite, the anime or manga. "Cutting room floor scenes," if you will. "Dream Date" is based on that same concept. There are differences, obviously, between this and the anime, but I'm sticking as closely as I can without cramping "Dream Date's" own integrity.

For my "original" Gravi stories, please check my profile.

Now...on with the story!

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴  
**Yo-yo!  
**By Vindaloo  
✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

Wall, South Dakota. Home of, according to the huge roadside signs for the last three hundred miles, free water. (1)

Whoopie.

Eiri worked the heel of his left shoe off with his right toe, just far enough to attack the itch somewhere just behind the left metatarsal, an itch that had been driving him crazy since somewhere around, oh, Butte.

Gods, why couldn't he just _sleep?_ Why the fuck did he have to see Shuuichi in every pink-dyed poodle and amethyst ring that had boarded this unsprung public transport from hell?

And why in hell would anyone dye their poodle _that_ shade of pink in the first place?

Worse, why did That Person intrude into every plotline he'd tried to plan on the back side of his dark glasses for the past month?

Everything, _everything_ he'd been able to find out about Bad Luck since this journey from hell began indicated Shuuichi was doing fine. Better than fine. In his troublesome lover's absence, that already sweet voice had blossomed into heart-wrenching maturity.

But something, dammitall, was wrong. He knew it was. He could...dammitall, yes, he could feel it in his bones.

Not to mention his left foot.

"Dammit!" he muttered, and attacked The Spot again.

He'd been too damned efficient, that was what. He had this insane cross-country marathon planned so that he'd arrive in New York on the day he most wanted to be distracted.

The kickoff of Shu's concert tour.

The day he'd planned to ask Shuuichi to move in. Permanently.

So why hadn't he been able to admit it, that day in the Odaiba Amusement Park? Had he been counting that much on Shuuichi's ability to help him crack the hold Kitazawa had on his heart? He didn't want, dammit, to be obsessed with a dead man—not even if he _weren't_ considering something more permanent with this newest obsession. He felt guilty...of course he did. He'd shot the men who raped him, then shot the man who should have protected him.

Who'd been too damned drunk to protect him.

Or so Seguchi had excused the action all these years. Betrayal by omission, by lack of action. But somehow, his gut had never accepted that explanation. That was the realization he'd come to in a month with only the company of his own thoughts.

There was something more.

There _had_ to be something more.

Not even Uesugi Eiri could be so shallow as to shoot the man he loved, simply because he was drunk.

He watched the lights of the small town flash by. The bus was scheduled through here at night to minimize traffic. They'd stop at the main station for pickup and dropoff, then take off once again.

Just as they had at every damned cow-town since Spokane.

He didn't care. He'd bought the ticket with cash. No name exchange. Nothing. Seguchi couldn't track him, and he'd arrive in New York just in time. His cash was getting low. Once he hit New York, he'd be forced to use credit cards, and then Seguchi would have him.

But not until he'd accomplished what he'd left Japan to do, one way or another.

_Damn you, Kitazawa,_ he thought, but the curse was perfunctory. He didn't hate Kitazawa for 'betraying' him, if failure to protect him from those thugs was a betrayal. He hated himself, for killing the man he loved for so little reason.

If he had.

That was the question that needed answering. Somehow, he loved ... and hated ... Kitazawa Yuki. Why? Was it this darkness that had eaten away at him ever since that day? Was it the same darkness that had turned him into a bitter, nasty-tempered punk for the rest of his school days? The same darkness that made him bitterly cruel to the sweetest, most loving person whose path he'd ever had the misfortune to cross? The darkness that made him unable to believe that sweetness was real, that waited for the betrayal; the darkness that would, in all likelihood, lash out at the first _hint_ of that love faltering?

Was Uesugi Eiri truly that fundamentally cruel? That fundamentally unforgiving?

He wanted to believe otherwise. Wanted to believe himself worthy of the love Shuuichi offered. More, he wanted to believe himself truly safe for Shuuichi to love. Shuuichi didn't deserve, ever, to suffer because of that love.

Shuuichi deserved to be happy, the way he was now...

He gave that annoying itch another vicious scrub.

...he hoped.

✴✴✴

Silence reigned in the NG conference room.

Hiro glanced at the clock, across the table to where K was cleaning a gun...while also watching the second hand sweep the clock face.

11:00 am.

Suguru had his nose buried in the itinerary Sakano had handed out as they arrived, a pencil behind his ear, his head tilted into his left hand, his right tapping a silent rhythm on the polished table top.

He hadn't turned a page on the printed report since he'd opened it.

Sakano had left the room half an hour ago, looking for Shuuichi.

Something had happened, dammit.

The door swung open and Sakano rushed into the room, screaming, "I found him!"

Shuuichi followed calmly in his wake and settled silently into a chair next to Hiro. Hiro greeted him in a low voice and hissed: "Where've you been?"

Shuuichi shook his head and turned pointedly toward their producer who had dropped into a seat on the far side of the table.

"Sacho-san has left," Sakano announced. "He's on his way to the airport, headed for the states."

Shuuichi jerked, and looked suddenly anxious, his hand raised then lowered, as if he was too scared to ask.

Sakano saw the reaction and looked genuinely sympathetic. "I'm sorry, Shindou-san. I don't think he knows anything more about Yuki-san. It's strictly business."

Shuuichi's shoulders heaved and he looked down, doing a one-fingered steal of Hiro's itinerary printout and beginning to page through it, a pencil in hand.

"Shu?" Hiro asked quietly, and got a glimpse of cautious purple. "Are you okay?"

A shrug.

"Shu? Tell me...what's wrong?"

And a wince. The pencil made a little note on the margin, and Shuuichi pushed it toward him.

_Can't._

"Can't...what?"

_Tell you._

"Why not? Shu, just—"

_Can't talk._ Shuuichi touched his throat. _Sorry._

The subsequent silence in the conference room was downright deafening.

✴✴✴

The tiny plastic square leapt off the table and spun into the shadows beneath a neighboring table.

Fuck.

Yuki closed the lid on the laptop with careful deliberation...

...before he threw the damned thing against the bar's far wall.

He'd picked the piece of crap up somewhere south of Seattle at a used electronics store. Paid cash as he'd paid cash for everything on this trip, and, in a mistaken attempt at economy, had gotten exactly what he'd paid for.

The 's' key stuck, the space bar worked only when it was in the mood, and now, the 'a' key had fallen off completely.

At least it allowed him to take notes...on a story that might never be published.

_Fuck, Uesugi, where'd that come from? Don't even think like that._

He grunted and shoved the morbid thoughts to the far side of the little table along with the piece of mechanical junk, sat back and lost himself in contemplation of the oil lamp's flame through the amber liquid cradled in his hand.

Macallen's. Eighteen-year-old. Neat. In a snifter. Damned if he'd drown the good stuff with ice, ulcer or no ulcer.

Damn Touma's interference anyway, always making him water his scotch down. He didn't dare stock Macallen's or the Balvenie he loved best because Touma would be certain he was breaking the rules.

Damn the rules. Damn Touma. And damn his ulcer.

He downed the last of the drink and lifted two fingers at the bartender, who nodded and reached for another snifter, polishing the glass before reaching for the top shelf bottle. (2)

The bus, which had to be related to that crap computer, had broken down just short of Chicago. Someplace called Lisle. He had, so they'd said as they gave him a stipend for dinner, until ten tomorrow morning.

A stipend which _might _cover the drink he'd just finished.

When the double arrived, he ordered a hamburger and, just for giggles, a glass of ice water on the side. He sipped his drink, eyes on the HD flatscreen overhead, which was tuned to some entertainment news program.

Suddenly, a familiar pink head caused his stomach to churn.

Bad Luck's tour had made international headlines, selling out in the first hour the tickets were on sale.

Good for them. Good for...him.

He lifted his glass to the screen and tossed back twenty dollars in a single gulp.

His stomach twisted in protest.

He ignored it...

... and lifted another two fingers to the bartender.

✴✴✴

"That's enough," Hiro said, quietly, but firmly. He was through letting these people torment his best friend. "C'mon, Shu." He held out a hand to Shuuichi, whose large eyes shifted fearfully from one mountain of humanity to the next. "I'm taking you home."

He gave Sakano, K, and Suguru a look that dared them to contradict him. When they didn't, Shuuichi gave a silent gasp and worked his way through the packed room, crawling at the last between tree-trunk legs, to grab Hiro's hand. The next thing Hiro knew, Shuuichi's arms, sumo-suit and all, were holding him tight about the waist as if he were terrified someone would rip him away.

A day of hospital tests, of doctors and psychiatrists poking and prodding had led to the conclusion that there was nothing physically wrong with Shuuichi, that it was paralysis of the vocal chords caused by fear of the upcoming tour.

Sakano (gods knew where) had come up with the crazy notion of toughening him up or scaring sound out of him by bringing in an entire sumo wrestling team. They'd poked him, prodded him, and tossed him about like a beach ball...an experience that would have a normal Shu giggling up a storm, and all this Shu had done was retreat farther into that terrified realm where not only Yuki, but his music, was gone.

They had only three days left before the first concert of the tour and if anyone had a chance of finding out what happened to that voice it was he. But not here, and not with all these idiots scaring the living hell out of his best friend.

"If you need us, we'll be at my place," he said to K as he put his arm around Shuuichi's shoulders and guided him toward the door.

Shu stopped dead, frowning.

Hiro thunked him in the head gently. "K will stay at Yuki's place tonight." He cast K a look that dared him again to contradict. "Won't you, K?"

K stared at them a moment, then dipped his head. Shuuichi's shoulders slumped in relief, tightened again as K lifted a finger.

"Just be aware, there were paparazzi following when we left the hospital. We'll do our best to squelch rumors, but there's only so much we can do."

Naturally. Why couldn't the public mind it's own damned business?

Hiro nodded and led Shuuichi to the costume department to shed the sumo-suit. But Shuuichi declined, hugging it to himself. Shu always had loved cosplay.

And maybe the suit was just a convenient barrier between him and the world.

Maybe the sumo-thing wasn't all bad.

So it was he found himself taking the backstreets to his apartment with a midget sumo wrestler balanced precariously on the back of his bike.

He ordered pizza and (knowing Shu) a bottle of tabasco sauce, and headed for the kitchen to make lattes. It was fussy, owning that machine, but he didn't care that much for plain coffee, and Shu could use the calories.

He heard the doorbell ring and before he thought called out, "Would you get that, Shu?"

Silence.

He gave himself a mental kick and rushed to the door where he found Shuuichi posing for the chortling pizza-delivery boy.

"Idiot," Hiro said, on a chuckle of his own, and shoved Shu out of the way, grabbing the pizza and slipping a check into the kid's hands.

"Thanks," the kid said and with a final low bow to Shuuichi, bounced back down the stairwell.

Shuuichi's wide smile vanished the moment the door closed.

"Always there for the audience, aren't you, Shu?" Hiro said, taking the pizza into one hand and steering Shuuichi back to the main room. Somewhere beneath the padding, he felt Shuuichi shrug. "Sit," Hiro said and Shuuichi's costume-stumps folded, leaving him perched in the mountain of foam rubber in the middle of the living room.

Hiro set the pizza in front of him and headed back to the kitchen for the lattes. He returned to find Shuuichi pumping away with the tabasco. His aim, after all these years, was perfect, hitting only one side of the pizza.

He knew better than to get a drop on Hiro's.

Hiro watched silently from the folded futon. He couldn't believe Shu's silence wasn't in some way connected to Yuki. Shu had been counting on him to be at this concert, from the moment the tour had been announced. He'd had a special pass printed in gold ink, just for 'his Yuki.' And yet, something about the timing suggested it wasn't just Yuki.

The last time he'd heard Shuuichi say anything had been at the radio station, right before...

"Shuuichi?"

The pumping arm paused.

"Does this have something to do with Sakuma-san?"

Ryuichi had been so cold. So disapproving yesterday.

"Are you scared of the comparisons the tour is certain to bring?"

The pump began again, with interest. The aim, he was relieved to note, remained true.

"You remember, Shu, when I told you you have the greatest vocals in Japan...even better than Sakuma-san's?"

The next shot missed. Fortunately it hit the floor and not his half of the pizza.

"Maybe _he _just realized that. Maybe _he's _jealous."

Now _that_ was on his half. "Watch it, moron!"

Shuuichi's mouth set.

"There's another possibility."

The pump paused, Shuuichi looked up, desperate hope in his eyes.

"You're still the best, Shu. Better than ever, but...something's been missing."

Despair overpowered hope.

"Maybe that's what Sakuma-san noticed. He reacted to something in you before. Something vital and special. Something that...died...when Yuki-san left."

Tears threatened, only to get determinedly blinked away.

The pump resumed.

"Do you know where he went, Shu?"

The pump froze.

"You don't know, but you suspect, don't you?"

A tiny nod.

"If you wanted to go find him, we could always delay the start of the tour. I know K says this is our chance, our only chance, but..."

His phone rang.

The pump arm jumped, then resumed its now-spastic motion.

Damn.

He jerked the phone from the stand, saw the caller ID and his frustration faded.

"Moshi moshi," he said, and his girlfriend's sweet voice answered from the phone.

He shot Shu a rueful glance and pointed to the phone, mouthing _it's Ayaka._

Shuuichi nodded, jerked his head toward the balcony door, and Hiro, with a silent _back in a minute_ headed out for the offered privacy.

He kept it short, knowing Ayaka would understand in spirit, if not in fact—not even she could know Shuuichi had lost his voice—talking only long enough to let her upbeat calm salve his near-shattered nerves, only realizing while talking with her how great a toll Shuuichi's plight had placed on him as well. With a fond farewell, he pressed the phone's disconnect and headed back into his apartment...

...only to find an empty sumo-suit lying in the middle of the floor beside an untouched pizza.

**TBC**

**(1) **Wall, SD truly does have signs for "free water" posted on the freeway. Wall is located at one end of the scenic route through the Badlands and during the wagon train days the "free water" was a _big_ deal. Now, of course, it's a marvelous PR gimmick. If you're ever headed cross country on I90, I encourage you to stop there. It's a tourist trap of the absolute best sort, and the scenic route through the badlands is well worth the extra time. One caution...if you travel with cats, don't feed them catnip before taking the tour. I think Efanor still has flashback nightmares!

(2) "Top Shelf" refers to the premium liquors like single malt scotch and top of the line tequila. They're ordered much more rarely and so are place on the top shelf of the bar stock. Yes...I'm a single malt drinker. Mom's maiden name was Macphail, so I come by the preference honestly. :D

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

**Next up:** Sparkling. Shuuichi, Ryuichi...and a drawing tablet.

**Reviews:**

**FraisesPasteque**: Have you not seen the anime?!? Oh, dear. It's really very charming. I love the look Ryu gives him. It's Ryu in full spook-mode. Gee...how ethno-centric can I get? "Summer" (i.e., the kids are out of school) in the states is, oh, June through August. I just assume that the rest of the Northern Hemisphere echoes that, and the Southern Hemi would be...what? November through January? How dumb is that! On the whole diet for ulcers thing...not to worry. The bland diet/lots of dairy has been pretty well out-moded in medical theory. Current thinking looks primarily to the H. Pylori bacteria and/or too much drinking and smoking...along with the stress that produces too much acid. The "bite" of spices and peppers is all a taste bud reaction (unless you're actively sensitive to them) and have nothing to do with how much acid your system produces in order to digest it. (Thank you, WebMD!)

Oooo, kittens! Love 'em. I fear, however, we'll have to keep the exchange virtual. My dear Efanor would get jealous and twenty pounds of black fur and muscle armed with pins is not something to argue with!

**Scorch66**: Heh heh...once Shu came up with this notion of protecting the valuables, carrying the computer everywhere just sort of made Shu-ish sense. In Shu-ish logic, the computer means more to Yuki than anything. As long as it's there, Yuki will be back. As long as he's got it, Yuki has to come to him to get it. Give it to K to lock up for safe-keeping? Never. That would be too simple. :D Also, I think he sort of keeps it near as a way of keeping Yuki near. Again, Shu-ish logic.

**Sayuri-girl**: I'm glad you liked it. The anime really has limits as to how much it can explain things. They only had thirteen episodes to work with, and that's not much, given the amount of psychological twists and turns this story contains. I give the scripters a lot of credit for how much they did manage to get in. Shu is a performer to his core, and doesn't commit half-way to anything. I also see him using work to keep himself from thinking about Yuki. It's only when he goes home to the empty apartment that he's face to face with his personal lonely reality.

**AoMe Hs:** Yup. Following the anime as closely as I can without shortchanging the story as it's developing. I've actually revised my opening A/N to try to clarify that. I have quite a few "original" Gravi stories posted here (original in quotes, since by definition, fanfic can't be totally original:D)

**Saint Germain:** Cola and cupcake! A fellow health food nut, I see. ;-) And aren't you sweet. Thanks so much.

**Seyyan**: Thanks for the review. I have to admit, I probably don't dwell on certain things the way a lot readers would like. I really can't afford to let the stories grab hold of my head that thoroughly. I have original characters and stories that must be nurtured. As for the length of the chapters...there are so many people posting, I hate to take up someone's entire evening reading one post. Also, I think longer posts tend to get skimmed, and I like to let readers take their time. Finally, on ffnet, the posts move through the first page so fast that unless people have an alert on your post, there's a good chance they'll miss it. I try to make up for the shortness with frequent posting, which also keeps the story available for those following it.

**R-HP**: That's the whole question, eh?

**Graviluvr**: born and raised! Actually, Renton, then Kent, but that doesn't mean a lot to most readers. I'm now a Spokanite, but I still have family over on the 'wet side.'

**ANKuma**: Microwave metaphores: so Shuuichi, don't you think? LOL I adore writing Hiro's VP. He's so caring, quietly sensible...so steady. And he truly loves Shu in the best possible sense. More than brothers, yet not lovers. It's the best kind of friendship there is. I don't know that I'll ever make him the main character of a story, but his viewpoint is, for my money, essential for a Yuki/Shu story. Coloring scene is next!

**Meadhbh**: Thank you...and I LOVE the response. I don't know about other writers, but I always hope that what I write will trigger something in the reader that makes them speculate even further, which makes me think more...you get the picture. :D. You cannot believe how addicted I'm becoming to all of the feedback you folks give.

To me, no matter how hard Shu tries, Yuki _is_ alone until he makes that statement to Touma about going home. At that point, he's ready to accept Shu into his life, having accepted a fundamental shift in his universe, mainly, he _is_ no longer alone and will never be alone. I have a feeling that by then he truly believes Shu _will_ track him down, even in death. :D I know in the manga, she keeps the whole Kitazawa thing going, but this is based on my reading of the anime. At the same time, Shu becomes less emotionally dependent on him, as witness the easy smile when Yuki pronounces he still has zero talent (which anyone who's read my other stuff knows, I don't think he really means...but that's, literally, another story.)

**Lunarsensitive: **Thank you for reviewing! I don't expect readers to, but I sure love it when they do. Shu and Yuki are so multidimensional, they leave a whole lot of room for interpretation. I think I said somewhere else that I don't do the manic air-headed Shu well, and I ADORE that side of him. Maybe it's the kind of story I write. I should try some broad humor. It would be good for me. Maybe for the Dream Date Outtakes I'll give it a stab and do Shuuichi invading the airport as luggage. (I so love that scene...He's so cute sitting in the car after, in his suitcase suit, sipping his cola or orange drink, or whatever it is.) As for Shu's silence...we're not done analyzing that yet!

**Daxemon**: Ryu obviously plays a direct part in the upcoming chapters. Someday, I want to write my take on how Ryu views Shu from Ryu's POV, but I haven't found the right story vehicle yet. All I _can _say is it won't have Ryu/Shu sex in it. In my reading of the story, the whole idea cheapens a very unique relationship. Same, frankly, with Hiro/Shu sex. I've read other fanfics with those pairings that I quite enjoyed and which made it quite plausible, but...not in the way I read the characters.

Logical, if you're on crack...or Shindou Shuuichi. LOL. One of the little side readings I have of Shu is that he doesn't really think of himself as attractive. He's thought of himself as a singer all this time, but you've gotta admit, there's nothing cool or typical-sexy about his body language. :D What's utterly entrancing about him to me, both in the manga and anime, is his fundamental obliviousness to his own appeal. The only physically attractive people I've known who are also extrovert clowns are hiding a very strange self-image of themselves. Hard to express in a short answer, but it's certainly a theme throughout my fics, and directly addressed in one I have yet to finish and post. That's why he can easily believe that Yuki _would _keep him around for a convenient...er...hole, as manga-Yuki taunts him with more than once...or am I thinking of the remix? I've only seen a couple of those. I really must go back and reread the manga! I'm getting confused!

**Tsu**: Oh, no! Say it's not true! And no backup? (Like...I keep them myself...not. Ask me about saving Harmonies from a mis-parked harddrive some time.) You know...the info is probably intact on the harddrive and your local computer guru could probably hook the harddrive into another machine and extract the salient files, if you haven't already reformatted the HD. And what's this about my poking fun at British-isms? Not me! I love 'em. (Again...ask me sometime about some of my battles with copy editors!) Actually, in this case you're right (re the spelling of innocence) and I wish I could get my fool head straight about it. Innocence is what I meant. Innocense is supposedly an alternate spelling, but in my WP thesaurus, it lists weird things like Collinsia bicolor, Collinsia heterophylla, and purple Chinese houses! I kid thee not! Miss you, too.

**Moon71**: I honestly had never quite thought of the Yuki Eiri resistance to being a victim aspect. So right! I doubt Yuki would act differently, he'd just find another way to justify his decision. One trap of being an author is the ability to rewrite available facts to read the way you want them to. Yuki is set on going to NY and he'd do whatever it took to justify his decision to leave the way he did. No matter what, it was easiest for him to simply leave. He's way too vulnerable to Shu's puppy-eyes. I really think it was that moment on the boat or never. His resolve to solve the mystery was at its peak. Had he waited for Shu to return, little Shuuichi claws would be back in him and he'd have passed the opportune moment.

Shu's silence IMO, as you'll see next chapter, is only marginally related to Yuki's disappearance. There was a point in time where I quit drawing...I'd been doing it commercially for a while and it lost all its joy. One day, after I hadn't drawn anything for, like, a year, a friend asked me to do a portrait of their child and I found I couldn't. Flat out could not get my hand to cooperate. It was one of the most, if not the most, terrifying moments of my life. The first time I watched the anime, I was literally sick at my stomach with empathy when he lost his voice. They couldn't do enough to make it funny to me. Took several viewings for the sumo-scene to be remotely humorous.

As I said above, I'm fascinated by the Shu/Ryu dynamic in ways that are so much more interesting, IMO, than sex. I hint at it in this story, but someday, I want to write something from Ryu's POV and see if I can't solidify what is currently just a gut feeling. (BTW, I agree about the creepiness of a sexual relationship between them.)

Oh, yeah, these boys are seriously, _seriously, _addictive!

Okay...That's all for now. Big Shu hugs to everyone. —Vin


	14. Sparkling

**Disclaimer**: Gravitation is all Maki Murakami's brainchild. I'm just playing in the sandbox with no profit to myself other than joy.

**A/N**: This belongs, technically, with my "Between the Lines" series, but it has long since gone beyond a oneshot, so I'm giving it its own slot. As there seems to have been some confusion, my "Between the Lines" series is a series of one shots designed to expand upon, not to rewrite, the anime or manga. "Cutting room floor scenes," if you will. "Dream Date" is based on that same concept. There are differences, obviously, between this and the anime, but I'm sticking as closely as I can without cramping "Dream Date's" own integrity.

It also, as turns out, serves as something of a prequel to my "Yushu."

For "Yushu" and my other "original" Gravi stories, please check my profile.

Now...on with the story!

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴  
**Sparkling  
**by Vindaloo  
✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

Shuuchi was happy for Hiro and Ayaka, really.

And if he kept repeating that simple fact in his head long enough, the hurt might even go away.

Shuuichi tried, as he wandered the streets, not really knowing where he was headed, not really caring, but it was hard not to compare his situation to his best friend's. Love had burst unexpectedly into his life, overwhelming his senses, changing him forever. He'd had no choice in the matter; none at all. He belonged to Yuki Eiri, in every way, now and forever.

Hiro's relationship with Ayaka had just slowly developed, the two of them sharing the fringes of the Yuki/Shu fireworks. Hiro, the rock-steady force in Shuuichi's own life, found his own peace and support in the young woman who had once been engaged to Yuki.

Hiro deserved that refuge. He didn't deserve a selfish best friend who was ruining the greatest chance of their lives.

If only he could figure what was wrong. Yes, his voice had vanished at the same moment Sakuma-san had snubbed him so openly, so...derisively. It was almost as if...

Shuuichi stopped and stared at the tall building in front of him, not really seeing the building, but a hallway, the panther-like Ryuichi striding past him, head down, eyes shaded beneath his hat's curved brim.

...it was almost as if Sakuma Ryuichi had _cursed _him.

Kami-sama, that was an attractive notion, to think that his performing god had all the answers. Sakuma-san was downright spooky at times, for all Shuuichi idolized him. Sometimes, he seemed as mindless as a child, at others...he seemed to hold the wisdom of the ages in the palm of his expensively manicured hand.

And he, Shindou Shuuichi, Yuki Eiri's card-carrying, certifiable pet moron, had dared to challenge him.

Ryuichi hated him now, he was certain of it. Was Ryu afraid of comparison, as Hiro had suggested? He didn't think so. Certainly not enough to rob him of his voice.

But if it wasn't Ryu...was it him? Hiro had asked did he want to go after Yuki. Of course he did, but...

Enough to cause his voice to vanish? _Had _he done this to himself?

That...he could almost believe. He didn't want to believe it, didn't want to think he'd put his aching desire for Yuki ahead of his band and the tour and the future of so many people, that he'd be so selfish as to freeze his own voice, but if he had, if that was the reason, Hiro was right. He had to find Yuki.

But...where? He suspected Yuki had gone to New York and that it had something to do with Kitazawa, but New York was a big city. He couldn't just...

That building. It was NG studios.

His feet had just automatically brought him here.

Suddenly, every muscle in his body was tired. He should call Hiro. Ask him to come pick him up. He pulled out his cell phone, only to realize he couldn't speak to tell Hiro _where _to come pick him up.

He slumped to the step, staring at the useless mechanism...

Yuki's face stared back at him, repeated a half-dozen times in the photo-stickers. His beautiful face, the gorgeous eyes with the hint of a smile. A smile he wouldn't allow to touch his mouth.

Kami-sama, he loved...

He bent his head into his crossed arms sobbing silently. It was gone. Everything was gone. Yuki, his music, Sakuma-san's friendship. Even, thanks to his useless cell phone, Hiro.

Except, it wasn't useless.

_Baka_! He berated himself, and flipped the phone open. Text message...

The battery was dead.

_Dammit._ He dropped his head back into his arms, the useless cell phone cradled in his lax hand.

There was nothing for it. He'd have to go inside and get someone to call Hiro for him.

He sighed, and pushed himself to his feet and headed for the front entrance, tucking his phone into his pocket. The guard recognized him and had the door open for him when he got there. Once in, he took his drawing tablet out of his backpack to write out the note, but instead of asking for help phoning Hiro, somehow he wrote out that he wanted to go work on lyrics in the studio, and once he wrote it, a sense of peace came over him.

That's what he needed. He needed to write. He needed to sort out all these feelings that had been building in him for weeks.

The door to studio two was open, though the lights were off. Shuuichi moved hesitantly into the room and paused, waiting for his eyes to adjust, not wanting to interrupt if someone was working. Some of the mixers preferred working in the dark and after hours, insisting vision was distracting to their ears.

There was someone there, all right, but not working. A slim figure, hunched over, his foot tapping in time with the music apparently blaring in his earphones. And in the silence, a faint sound reached his ears.

A familiar faint sound.

_The Rage Beat._ Bad Luck's first hit single. And from the sound, the original mix. When Bad Luck had been just Hiro and an idiot wannabe named Shuuichi.

Eyes gleamed up at him from under the baseball cap, unblinking, red spots in the light from the corridor.

Ryuichi.

Shuuichi started, clutched his drawing tablet to his chest and bowed low, shaking in every muscle. Why was _he_ here? Why was he listening to _his_ song?

That one wild speculation flared. _Had_ Ryu cursed him? Was this...ritual... part of keeping him silent?

_Moron!_ He could hear Yuki's voice chiding the stupid notion. And it was stupid. Ryu had more right than anyone to be here. Ryu's talent had built NG Pro. Probably he was listening to that old tape trying to figure what he'd ever seen in Bad Luck in the first place.

He was a fool ever to have compared himself with Ryu. He'd never have a fraction of Ryu's stage presence, that fascinating blend of mystery and pure, unadulterated sex appeal.

Still bent, he began to back out the door, eyes glued to the floor, seeking to escape that feral gaze.

"_Shuuichi!"_

He never saw the human bowling ball that sent him tumbling to the floor.

"Why are you running away?"

He scrambled across the floor, out from under the mass that was Ryuichi. Ryuichi rolled up to his knees, and stared at him, his eyes big and bright and innocent for the first time in weeks.

Big, bright, innocent...and welcoming. Something shattered inside Shuuichi at that look. He hadn't realized...or hadn't let himself realize... how much Ryu's rejection of him had hurt. He'd tried so hard to be adult about Yuki's desertion. Had tried to do the right thing. To do his job and not let down those who were counting on him—Hiro, Suguru all the NG crew, all the fans who bought those million CDs—and the harder he'd worked, the more distant and disapproving his musical god had become.

And now that god, that idol...that friend...was asking him why he was running away.

And he had no answer, no voice to tell him, if he had.

Ryu's head tipped, his shoulders heaved in a huge sigh and his hypnotic gaze released Shuuichi at last, looking about, zeroing in on the drawing tablet and backpack Shuuichi had shed in his frantic escape.

"Drawing!" Ryu hopped to his feet, tablet clutched in his arms. One hand left the tablet to grab Shuuichi's wrist and pulling Shuuichi to his feet, Ryu hauled him into studio two, where, dropping to the floor, he began digging into the backpack. Another drawing tablet emerged (backup for the nearly full one Ryu had taken) crayons for the concept sketches Shuuichi played with constantly. CD slips, ads, costumes . . . what had been fun once had become a constant pressure to produce.

Just like his lyrics.

When had it all become ... so hard?

Parking himself on his knees in the middle of the polished hardwood floor, Ryu began drawing, seemingly oblivious to everything else, screaming out sound effects to accompany whatever he was drawing.

Shuuichi, feeling more lost than ever, knowing better than to counter Ryu's crazed notions, eased himself to the floor as well and began working on a costume idea. Purple and blue. He liked purple and blue, but he couldn't wear purple because of his hair. The designers said it 'clashed.'

So ... he'd change his hair. To blond.

Blond hair. Not that K would let him. Not yet. He had to become an 'icon' first. Once all the kids were pink, _then_ he could change it.

And he wanted to, though Hiro would object. Hiro would say he just wanted it because it made him think of Yuki.

Well, he thought defiantly, scribbling the yellow into the odd little figure's hair, keeping carefully within the lines, maybe it did. What was so wrong with that? Golden hair...maybe even a golden _microphone. _Why not? He was going to be a star, right?

Right?

Ryu's singing had achieved a chanting rhythm. Shuuichi glanced up and realized in horror that Ryu had left the drawing tablet far behind and was drawing all over the expensive, hardwood floor. He was darting right and left, adding details to a cartoon figure that was somehow bursting with life. Suddenly, he stood up, threw his head back and screamed: "I'm going to reach out to the Earth, to the universe! _Sparkling_!"

He spun around, his bright, innocent eyes seeking Shuuichi's, fully expecting some sort of answer. Shuuichi, feeling suddenly very old, could only stare back.

Ryu tipped his head, looking puzzled. His deep blue eyes fell to Shuuichi's drawing, and widened in disbelief.

"What the heck, Shuuichi, that's so _small!_ It's not sparkly at all!" He dropped down and grabbed a crayon and Shuuichi's tablet, turning his back. His chanting took on a new cadence: "Sparkly Shuuichi, Shuuichi sparkling..."

And as he drew and chanted, Shuuichi felt a warmth inside, a warmth that had been missing. . . for a very long time. Curious, he edged over to see, only to have Ryu round on him, the picture forming a wall between them. His awkward little sketch had come alive with a sunburst of energy exploding from the little figure and filling the page.

And above the picture, eyes no longer innocent but containing the wisdom of the ages caught and held his. "Shuuichi, _this_ is singing."

The tablet disappeared and Ryu's warm hands cupped and held his face steady as Ryu's lips touched his forehead.

"Sing, Shuuichi," Ryu murmured. "Reach out to the universe."

And then, he was gone. Giggling and chanting, as if that magical moment had never happened.

He didn't understand Ryu at all, not in his head. But deep inside, somewhere beyond logic, he _knew_ him, in a way he'd never known anyone else. Ryu never just came out and said anything. He couldn't. Ryu expressed himself through his lyrics. Through poetry and innuendo and lilting metaphor in ways he, Shuuichi, never would.

Or so Yuki always insisted, even as his tone made the insult into a challenge, daring Shuuichi to try harder. To look deeper. All the way to his heart and beyond.

He looked now, seeking the answers...but all he saw was darkness.

Shuuichi sighed, and slowly pushed himself to his feet. Lifting his backpack to one shoulder, he bowed to the oblivious Ryu, and hugging his drawing tablet once more to his chest, he left the building, without calling Hiro. He'd go home. He had to go home. To the place he'd shared with Yuki. K didn't belong there. He did. As long as no other obligations drew him away, it was his job, his...place in the world.

**TBC**

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

**Next up: Silhouettes and Shadows: **Shuuichi has a lightbulb moment.

**Reviews: Gabrielle Angelique:** Can't say this will give you much insight into the manga. The manga has its own extreme charm, but this is my take on the anime, which I saw long before I read the manga. Frankly, she never really explains the Kitazawa situation in the manga either, at least not as it's been translated. Lots of vague allusions, but nothing very concrete. Yuki's American Adventure is all mine. I wish I had time to write the whole thing. He's such a fun viewpoint! I don't think I could get tired of Gravi, what I have to do is get back to real life, now that you all have invigorated me. I have a novel half-finished which HAS to get done in the next few months! I do have a few stories up my sleeve that have been rough drafted that I'll try to get posted over that period. Also...I'm really getting the urge to do the outtakes and cutting room floor scenes for Dream Date.

**Daxemon**: Tabasco sauce...Sheesh...those who love it use it like some people use ketchup! I like a bit of it sometimes...mostly the green kind...and I like spicy foods! But seeing him just loading it onto the pizza made an indelible impression on me (as I think you can tell.) :D I think he uses it in the manga as well. Amazing worldwide success for a little company from the South! Hiro...oh, yeah. Agree TOTALLY. He's got such soothing body language, too.

**ANKuma**: Now...I'm nervous. Hope the coloring scene lived up to expectations. The other half...Shu's awakening in the park, will be up in a day or two. I agree...that scene is crucial. I'm thinking of doing an alt-version of it for the outtakes from Ryu's POV. I needed this to be in Shu's VP for the purposes of the story, but I think it c/b really interesting from Ryu's. I love (in case you can't tell) psychological stories. It's the true driving force in all my novels. What c/b really interesting for your college thesis is to do an honest examination of both the anime and the manga and compare what's actually written with what people have extrapolated from it. You've a huge resource for that in the fanfiction. The fact is, a story is a very two sided equation. There's what the writer writes and what the reader reads, and no matter how exact you try to be as an author, you can never completely control that second half. That's one reason these scene by scene reviews absolutely fascinate me.

**OneFalseMove**: First time reviewer! Thanks. And I'm so glad you've enjoyed the whole lot. Shu hugs!

**R-HP**: This is definitely the dark part of the story. Hope this chap was at least a bit of fun. Next time...no, chap after next, but hopefully up the weekend...I promise a much lighter Ryu moment!

**BlooDy-MaY**: Yay! Glad you're feeling better. Look for at least one more chap this weekend; hopefully two.

**Saint Germain:** I had a great deal of fun allowing Yuki to waste time. I almost didn't write the scene in the bar, as it's alluded to in the upcoming NY scenes, but I just couldn't imagine Yuki surviving complete sans computer and once I realized that, the image of the key flying across the barroom floor just had to be written. :D I'm glad it asks to be reread. I admit, that's one reason I tend to post such short chaps. Thanks to my first publisher-editor, whose only input was a blanket statement to make my novel shorter, I tend to write fairly densely and if you just skim, you will probably miss some things I hoped you'd get. :D At the cost of books these days, I try to make stories that beg to be reread. :D:D

**scorch66**: I think the whole Ayaka/Hiro thing is charming. It's such a ... normal relationship compared to the roller coaster ride of the Shu/Yuki pairing. You can easily see it developing into something romantic, platonic, or simply dissolving quietly.

**FraisesPasteque**: Haven't seen the anime? Ooo, I heartily recommend it. It's both charming and a superb condensation of the essential story line. Watch it, oh, a dozen times, for enjoyment, then again to compare it to the manga. Oh, and it's interesting as well to run it with the English dub and the subtitles at the same time to see the subtle, but significant, differences. Fascinating. Have you ever been tested for H. pylori bacteria? If you haven't, might be worth your while. That can be treated. Apple juice, huh? Interesting...It's not, I think, acidic. OJ would be...citric acid and all. Hmmm...intrustin'... And I'm no expert, but I think alcohol isn't inclined to make the ulcer flare, but rather to compromise the stomach lining further. Fortunately, that's one ailment I've avoided...though not for lack of stress:D Sun Drop, eh? Do you know which states? I've got to make a trip soon and I'll look for some.

**Sayuri-girl**: Again, I heartily recommend both, if you ever get the chance. The manga is quite different, so be prepared. Totally, charmingly over-the-top through parts, but worth the ride. My writing buddy and I have spent hours discussing the possible interpretations of the anime, and a lot of those are reflected here. I don't know if this is really what was intended, but it's at least (hopefully) a coherent reading. Oh...if you get the manga, there are some online scanlations still available which have some interesting and significant differences from the official TokyoPop translation. Of particular note is Yuki's comment when he goes to Shu's first concert. If anyone is fluent in Japanese and has the manga, I'd love to hear how they interpret that comment (regarding Shu's poetic ability)

**Lady Karai: **the whole sumo thing had me stumped as well. Had to do some fast footwork to figure what the heck they thought to accomplish. Glad the footwork ...er...worked.

**Supershu-chan**: I use what is called "intense third person" which is very much like first, but more flexible, because it leave you with more options for effect. I'm glad you like it. Poor Shu, lugging that silly laptop all over. Snortle...great word! Knew exactly what you meant. I'm soooo lucky...I have a Hiro-type best friend. She knows me like no one else and is always there for me. (And vice versa) As for dialogue, I love it when the characters just run with a scene and you can't type fast enough. That's almost always dialogue and I frequently have to go back in and fill in the pointers and action. One trick I've learned is to let a scene like that sit a day or two before filling those in. Helps you to read it like a reader and know where it needs the pointers (a trick which doesn't always work, as witness an earlier confusing scene:D) Annnnnd...we're back to the coloring scene. Oh...I hope this lived up to expectations.

Big Shu hugs to everyone! —Vin


	15. Silhouettes and Shadows

**Disclaimer**: Gravitation is all Maki Murakami's brainchild. I'm just playing in the sandbox with no profit to myself other than joy.

**A/N**: This belongs, technically, with my "Between the Lines" series, but it has long since gone beyond a oneshot, so I'm giving it its own slot. As there seems to have been some confusion, my "Between the Lines" series is a series of one shots designed to expand upon, not to rewrite, the anime or manga. "Cutting room floor scenes," if you will. "Dream Date" is based on that same concept. There are differences, obviously, between this and the anime, but I'm sticking as closely as I can without cramping "Dream Date's" own integrity.

It also, as turns out, serves as something of a prequel to my "Yushu." For "Yushu" and my other "original" Gravi stories, please check my profile.

**Special note:** I'm posting this in some trepidation. This is a _very_ important chapter, my precious readers. It's vital that it makes sense. If you're confused or spot something I overlooked, please don't hesitate to tell me. It was definitely the hardest scene to write of the entire story because it's pretty much totally Shu-logic, which means it actually makes sense but it gets to the point following a path that closely resembles spaghetti. :D

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴  
**Silhouettes and Shadows  
**by Vindaloo  
✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

The apartment was neat. Pristine, as it had been the day Yuki disappeared.

K wasn't there, though, from the smell of tobacco, he had been.

Shuuichi closed his eyes and inhaled, reveling in the scent, for all it wasn't quite right. Whatever K smoked, it wasn't Yuki's brand.

And that difference was enough to break the momentary fantasy. He let his backpack slide to the floor of the entry and slipped his shoes off beside it, then headed for the kitchen to plug in his cell phone. He sent a quick, reassuring TM to Hiro, a second to K to tell him he was back at home and not to blow his head off.

Thoughts of Hiro and a growling stomach reminded him forcefully of the pizza left untouched at Hiro's place, but he truly didn't want to cook. A box of Pocky would have to do, though even as he tucked the box into the front pocket of his hoody, he could hear Eiri muttering expletives about 'sugar highs.'

He'd take any sort of high at the moment. Well, almost. No drugs. He'd seen what bad drugs could do to his beloved, strong-headed Yuki, and had no interest in discovering just how stupid _he_ could get.

Not when there was still a chance that someday, any day, Yuki might come walking through that front door.

Looking for his computer, if nothing else.

Not, however, if he didn't have a key. Somehow, some way, Shuuichi would have to fix that.

But he'd have to find Yuki first.

_If you wanted to go find him, we could always delay the start of the tour. _

Trust Hiro to make it sound simple.

He wandered into the dark bedroom, a room also untouched save for dusting and washing the sheets since Yuki left. Shuuichi still slept on the couch. He wouldn't sleep here until its rightful owner invited him.

He had, however, stolen the pillow, and when he washed the sheets, he absolved the pillow case that still carried a hint of Yuki's scent. He slept on another pillow. His pillow. That one, that one that smelled of Yuki, he just hugged late into the night.

But eventually Yuki's smell had disappeared. He'd tried sprinkling it with a bit of Yuki's cologne, but it simply wasn't the same, so he'd washed the pillow case and relegated the scent to his dreams.

Dreams the results of which frequently dampened the towels he slept on to protect Yuki's leather couch.

Dear Buddha in heaven, he missed him. _Him_, not just the sex. He missed the way he yelled at him to get out of his study, only to come after him for a quick kiss on his way to the kitchen to fill a still half-full coffee mug. He missed the way his glasses glinted in the light from the TV as he sat reading, his lap a convenient TV pillow for Shuuichi. He missed the feel of those long fingers absent-mindedly combing his hair. He missed the sound of Yuki's rich, baritone voice as he read aloud from his current manuscript, testing the prose, so he said, because Shuuichi's face was such a mirror for his reactions.

He buried his face in the pillow, sobbing, and when he'd exhausted his tears, he grabbed his tablet to leave a note for K, just in case he didn't check his TMs, then escaped to the park, tablet still absently in his hand.

He simply couldn't face his manager. Not when he was coming apart at the seams.

His feet took him unerringly to _their_ bench. So many times they'd come here. It was where Yuki sat when he told him to trust Seguchi-san's judgement. It was where Shuuichi went when Yuki kicked him out and where Yuki always came to find him. It was where they sat and talked...about writing, which was the one topic on which Yuki talked freely and without sarcasm. And once Shuuichi had asked, he'd been free, even willing with advice, however caustically expressed.

Just up the curving pathway was _the_ streetlight, the light by which he'd first seen that beautiful pale halo of hair, the elegant hand holding a sheet of flyaway paper, a sheet from this drawing tablet's several times removed predecessor. Yuki had been reading those lyrics, barely more than raw notes of ideas, and when he'd finished, his head had lifted and from the shadows cast by the streetlamp and the beautiful blond hair had come the glimmer of the most beautiful eyes Shuuichi had ever seen.

And then, that beautiful baritone voice had told Shuuichi he had zero talent. That it read like a love-sick fourteen-year-old, and to give it up.

The grace and beauty of a model and the verbal sting of a scorpion.

That night, Shuuichi had abandoned his efforts on that song and written something completely different. That second song, written in defiance of Yuki's scorn, had just sold a million copies and set Bad Luck firmly into the hearts of music lovers across Japan. But it was Yuki's challenge that had created it, as much as Shuuichi's talent.

And it hadn't been the last time. Thanks to Yuki and his blistering assessments, he'd been driven to write as much as—more than—he'd been driven to tears.

Shuuichi sighed and slumped down on the bench, tucking his legs up, hugging his knees to his chest...remembering the interminable weeks following what he'd come to think of as the Aizawa Incident. Everything he'd written had been...gloomy. Even he had hated it. Yuki had told him to quit whining. To embrace the anger and the hurt and to channel it into his lyrics.

He'd been mad at Yuki at first for accusing him of whining. He'd worked very hard _not_ to whine about the rape, worked hard to keep it in perspective. And that, he'd finally realized, was what Yuki was talking about. He was whining through his lyrics. He needed to be angry. Needed to scream. And he'd done just that, in driving lyrics that had shocked K...and made Yuki's eyes smile.

The critics had loved it.

More importantly, he'd found a strange sort of peace which had always seemed to puzzle Yuki.

He stared over his knees, seeing not the sea of city lights, but Yuki's emotionless face against sunset clouds as he described his own rape, and for the first time, he thought maybe he understood _why_ Yuki had been puzzled. He thought maybe Yuki's own betrayal and rape was the reason so many of his stories had such sad endings, why the lovers never ended up together.

He wondered if Yuki had been giving him advice Yuki himself had been trying for years to follow—unsuccessfully. Yuki's writing had achieved popularity and critical acclaim, but there'd been no peace. Not for Yuki.

It didn't seem fair.

Shuuichi sighed and let his knees drop, picked up the drawing tablet that had slipped, forgotten, to the ground ...and found Ryu's 'sparkling Shuuichi' picture staring back at him.

Reach out. Reach out to the world, to the universe.

He had—once. But not...

His heart skipped a beat.

...not lately. That—_that_ was what Ryu had been trying to tell him.

Since Yuki left, he'd been singing for his band and for their success, but when he'd written those songs, he'd been crying out to the universe, striving for understanding, searching for the answers to a life he'd only just begun to live, sharing all that he was, both questions and answers, however personal, however shallow, to the world.

With love. Love for his music. Love for his band. Love for Yuki.

And love for the fans.

But since Yuki left, he'd tried to turn his singing into a job...and in doing so, he'd destroyed it. That's why Ryu had turned cold. That's why he felt...dead inside when he sang. He was singing because he had to, because people were depending on him, not because he wanted, _needed,_ to share the life...the love.

Tears fractured the image. But he couldn't share the love because his love supply was empty.

His finger traced the blond hair of the odd little figure.

No. Not empty. Confused. The problem wasn't that Yuki had left, not really. The real problem was Yuki's disappearance didn't make sense. More, while he was certain, in his heart, that Yuki was alive, he couldn't convince himself that Yuki was safe. Quite the opposite. His gut said something was very wrong and Yuki, that beautiful haloed silhouette that had guided him to his first hit was...

His thoughts froze as he stared blindly toward the light. Silhouette. Guide.

Guiding silhouette. Without conscious thought, he found a blank page in front of him and his favorite marker in his hand, writing, seemingly of its own will.

_The whisper melts into the noisy crowd  
__Memories scattered underfoot blur together  
__I wander aimlessly_

_The brilliant lights, glaring one way  
__Illuminate me as I freeze_

That song. That song he'd been searching for that first night. The search for...something more. The guide...into those dreams...a dream become reality. That which was, had been, and... could be...

_Dreams fall like rain  
__they slip through my fingers.  
__Countless wishes._

_I awake and you are there.  
__A shimmering vision.  
__The silhouette whose faint smile leads me along the way._

_The words I have fall on deaf ears (it's talk to myself)  
__We're falling into an everyday routine, even without shadows._

_With trembling fingers, I gather the dreams;  
__they're crumbling.  
__Even certainties prove false;_

_If I believe, can I be with you again?  
__Like a ghost, it's vanishing, the silhouette of that day._

Cold. Dear Buddha, he was cold. Winter was coming. It was snowing in New York, he'd seen it on the weather channel, because he was worried about Yuki and—

His fingers scribbled faster. And faster.

_Looking up at that pale season (Life Winter Dream)  
I, who stopped to stand still, am swept away._

_The wind blows,  
__The dreams are left behind.  
__Even the yearning is growing  
__numb from the cold in my heart._

_Dreams drifting through the cold  
__are caught and held in your hands.  
When I awake, you are there_

_A shimmering vision.  
__The silhouette whose faint smile leads me along the way._ (1)

Shuuichi lifted the pen, staring numbly at the page.

The song was finished. And it was right. Every word of it. Right. Perfect. He looked up, half-expecting to see that silhouette, it was so real to him in the aftermath of the creative glow, but...there was nothing.

_Where are you, Yuki? _He wanted to shout it to the whole world, and he couldn't even whisper it to himself. He _needed_ to show this to Yuki. This was Yuki's song.

Yuki. His guide through the shadows of life. His shimmering silhouette.

_Where are you?_

He dropped the pad and buried his face in his hands. He knew it was there. He should have the answer, if only he could be smart like Yuki and Hiro. He should know where Yuki was, but all that came into his mind was that beautiful face, glimmering in the dark, and later, descending toward his, relentless in its desire to scare him away with a kiss, only to have that plan backfire as the kiss, Shuuichi's first real kiss, had imprinted itself on his naïvely idiotic heart.

_What could you possibly want from me?_ Yuki had asked, that night, after his first concert. The one time he'd made Shuuichi feel...irresistible.

Or...was it?

He pulled his knees up again, resting his head on them.

Yuki pretended to hate his songs, told him to shut up when he sang around the house, but he'd caught Yuki more than once on the far end of the phone, with his practice tracks playing in the background. And those demands to shut up? Invariably came when his voice was already flagging.

And what about that final day together, at the park? He'd made Yuki, perfect, eagle-eye Yuki, miss a target just by hugging him.

Well, he smiled weakly into the shadows behind his knees, it _had_ been a rather...low-slung hug. But nothing had forced Yuki onto the rides with him. He might not have felt irresistible, but he'd been at least attractive enough to lure Yuki into behaving...not-like-Yuki.

His breath caught in a choking sob and he squeezed his eyes shut on the view that held so many memories.

_What could you possibly want from me?_ Everything, he wanted to cry, because you've stolen everything from me. My heart doesn't exist without you. And without my heart, there is no music, and without music...

Without music Shindou Shuuichi was, for all practical purposes, dead.

Yuki, his guiding silhouette, had taught his heart the truth behind his adolescent fantasies, had taught him both the agony and the ecstacy of all-consuming passion.

And now he was gone. Without explanation.

And that, he realized suddenly, was the real problem. The not knowing.

Not...knowing...

The tears vanished on a wave of understanding—of the problem, if not the answer.

Shuuichi's hand sought that tiny slip of paper, a slip of paper he had never been without, not since Yuki disappeared, the torn bit of the picture Yuki had shown him that last night. He took it out of his pocket and stared at it, not seeing the golden, laughing eye of a teenager, but the older, weary eyes of a man lost.

Yuki didn't know, he'd said, why he'd killed Kitazawa. Couldn't remember the details. He'd killed Kitazawa, whom he'd loved, and now, he was killing Shuuichi, who loved him with all his heart. Never mind that heart kept beating; the soul behind it was dying.

Because he didn't understand why he was alone now. And if he didn't find out why, if he didn't confront Yuki and solve that puzzle, he was going to die.

He had to find Yuki to save his love—and his music.

Maybe Yuki knew that; maybe he didn't. Maybe Yuki cared; maybe he didn't. But at the moment, Shuuichi wasn't even certain he cared about Yuki's feelings. There was his music and his love for Yuki and then, there was Yuki himself.

Yuki had gone because he, Shuuichi, hadn't known the right thing to say. He hadn't had some overwhelming insight into what would drive someone who loved another person to kill that person. He'd...

Yuki had needed to know then, just as Shuuichi needed to know now.

And just as Shuuichi needed to confront Yuki, needed to ask him why, Yuki needed to confront Kitazawa, needed to lay that past to rest...one way or another.

And Yuki, being Yuki, would choose a time when Shuuichi would be the most occupied with his music and so the least threat to Yuki's own sense of guilt—and the least likely to be able to interfere in Yuki's plans.

And Yuki had left his laptop, the stories that were as much a part of Yuki as Shuuichi's music was a part of him...

And without his music, he was dead.

A shiver went down his spine.

He knew where Yuki would be. And he knew when he'd be there.

He knew what Yuki intended to do—even if Yuki didn't.

He knew what Yuki intended to do...and what he _had_ to do.

Even if it meant giving up Bad Luck.

**TBC**

(1) This is my own, somewhat liberal, interpretation of the lyrics to "Glaring Dreams" based on several different literal translations. "Glaring Dreams" is the closing song to the anime and did play this role in the anime, as opposed to "No Style's" role in the manga. (For those unfamiliar with the manga, "No Style" was both the song Yuki sees in the park and the song that becomes Bad Luck's first NG hit, i.e. the song Shu sings and The Concert.)

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**Next: Th' Bronx is Up and th' Battery's Down: **Ryu dances with Kuma-chan.

**Reviews**: Going to try to make these fast. I'm getting these ready in between rose deliveries and weed-whacking! (The ongoing joys of a new house...)

**Supershu-chan**: _Whew!_ (Wipes forehead in relief.) If there's anything scarier than knowing you're approaching somebody's favorite scene, I don't know what that would be. :D Thanks so much for the kind words about style. (She says, blushing hotly.) I honestly never really think of my writing that way...I still always feel like I'm just getting out alive, so it's really nice to hear it described that way. As for Shu's hair...I don't know where that came from. Always kinda scratched my head too when I was watching the anime. It was one of those details that just "happened" when I began writing the scene from Shu's VP. It's all hindbrain or back-burner stuff, and is what makes writing so darned much fun, IMO. You never quite know what's going to come out of that mental black hole. As for Ryu...I adore him. 'Nuff said!

**FraisesPasteque**: Glad to be of service! Sorry about your controller. And do you know...I can order that Sundrop online! I'm going to have to do that...when I get back from Texas. (Hmmm...wonder if Sundrop's infiltrated the lone star state, yet?)

**Scorch66**: Ryu is so enigmatic, there are a million ways to read him...especially considering what MM has done with GravEx and the Remixes. I'm...not particularly thrilled with them, but he's her character. One of the nice things about limiting my "inspiration" to the anime...or to the original manga...I can deal with the Ryu I feel in my gut. I'm glad you like him. He's got a GREAT scene in the next chap.

**Sayuri-girl:** I'm glad you liked it. :D I almost had myself convinced that Ryu actually did kiss his forehead in the anime. Then...went back, and no, he doesn't...at least, not that we see. ;-)

**Moon**: I'm actually betting that Yuki's itchy foot was an allergic reaction to the mold undoubtedly permeating the ventilation system on that bus, but _I'm_ not telling _him_ that.

I think you're absolutely right...Yuki's VP would be very hard in the anime. Have to interpolate a lot from "DMGs" (Deep Meaningful Glances.) Prose is much more threat to a character like Yuki who likes to keep the 'doesn't give a damn' façade alive. Let's us get in and do a bit of brain surgery. :D Obviously, I like to think that Shu is always there, niggling, keeping him at least as honest as he ever is with himself.

Re: asking Shu to move in permanently: I have no idea what he was planning. I force fed that notion to him. He snarled. A lot. Then fessed up to the truth. LOL. Of course, he insists, he'd never actually tell Shu it was permanent...just let him sleep in the spare room rather than on the couch.

Definite disconnect between his mouth and his brain...but then, he's an author. :D:D:D

As for the timing, I had to do _something_ to explain his "rain delay." (Ah, you can tell baseball season's well underway.) As the anime did it, Yuki's timetable could have been 48 hours, which he could have done with cash and no hotel reservations (i.e. avoided Touma _and_ Shu.) Shu needed at least a month or more to accomplish everything he does. That, of course, led to Yuki not getting caught by Touma for that long, which led to the cash-only and the flight to Seattle rather than NYC, the bus...etc. etc. etc. There's also one other factor in his choice of date which Shu figured out for me in this chapter, which is, Yuki knows damn good and well Shu loves him and that he was a scoundrel for leaving as he did. He also knows Shu loves his music. By timing it when Shu would be preparing for the biggest moment of his musical career, he won't feel as guilty.

Ayaka's a very useful character. She's particularly good for letting Hiro have a bit of sanity in his life. Do I think they end up together? Probably not. But maybe. Theirs is a relationship which, like most romantic relationships, could go any direction, depending on the random factors.

For me, the beauty of the anime is that it really creates a story which brings Yuki and Shu to that crucial point in their relationship. The causality for Yuki's trip and emotional breakthrough is really very strong. The problem with the manga is that the elements of the Yuki/Shu equation are presented far more randomly, so the resolution is not as clean...OTOH, the final panel of the manga is worth the entire price of the series...and takes the series to truly appreciate it.

Not to mention the added insights it gives to Ryu.

I've had most of my "artistic" outlets cut out on me at one time or another. It's never, _ever_ pleasant, but at least I trust these days that they'll come back. One of the scariest things I ever heard was an interview with Anne Rice and her husband where he commented that she had said her characters had "quit talking to her." Having just done the whole menopause thing and knowing several other women writers who've experienced it, I can now say...it's a normal part of the process. :D The voices _do_ come back. So...ladies...just be prepared and weather the scary storm. The voices will come back. You're not having a terminal attack of sanity! (You all do realize that writing is just a form of controlled MPD:D)

Re: DVD watching. I saw the first half of the anime...up through Shu's rape...and couldn't get the other DVDs from Netflix! By the time I found a source online and ordered the set, I'd already begun my first fanfic. I _had_ to find a resolution for poor Shu! When the DVDs came, I sat down and watched the whole thing straight through. Yeah...4am sounds about right.

So...anyone who is enjoying this or any of the other Gravi stories I've posted has Netflix failure to produce to thank! I doubt, had I had all four to begin with, that I'd ever have written any of them! Isn't life strange?

Shu's thought of dying his hair...don't know if the manga played a part in that or not. (For those who haven't read it, in the manga, after a major split between the boys, Shu dyes his hair blond.) Just trying to explain why his little Shu-sketch had blond hair. And it has to be Shu, not Yuki, because it's got a microphone in its hand. Certainly Ryu assumes it's Shu.

As for Touma's shifting appearance in the manga ...it seriously bothered me toward the end. In fact, I rather miss the early Shu as well. Only Yuki remains remotely true to his initial appearance.

Re: the Shu/Ryu interplay. That is one exceedingly interesting relationship. Even in the original manga, there was never any real sexual tension between these two...it's always linked to their music. Far, _far_ more interesting and unique, IMO, than a sexual triangle with Yuki.

**ANKuma**: Almost missed you! One of the main reasons I write is to figure out that which I don't understand. That's what's so very special about doing Dream Date. I'm finding all sorts of little bits of business that my brain had registered as puzzling, but which I'd never actually gone to the trouble of sorting out. This gives me the opportunity to do that.

I honestly believe that when you just let a story roll, your subconscious is talking to you and you're on the way to sorting out a lot of personal questions. It's the best way to write a rough draft, however, if you don't go back and reread and more importantly, rewrite to sort the story into logical sense, and to bring it to a sound resolution, you're missing out on all the value of writing in the first place. You don't learn anything, you just keep murphling! (Technical term: to murphle, v. to baffle with bullshit. :D:D:D) Most stories that have a "magic cookie" ending are the result of someone not really understanding their story in the first place.

Wow...that example you give is a great one...mainly because there are so very many ways it can be taken, depending on the experience of the reader. (Going now to read "How Much...") It's the perfect kind of metaphor to use in a short story...the best of which leave the reader puzzling over the possibilities. If that were in a novel, you'd be the rest of the novel leading the reader to the conclusion you want:D Wheee...I LOVE writing!

Well...that plan for 'brief' rather well backfired, now didn't it? Sigh. Guess I like writing _too_ much. I'll try and get "the Bronx" up tomorrow!

Shu hugs to all! —Vin


	16. Th' Bronx is Up

**Disclaimer**: Gravitation is all Maki Murakami's brainchild. I'm just playing in the sandbox with no profit to myself other than joy.

**A/N**: This belongs, technically, with my "Between the Lines" series, but it has long since gone beyond a oneshot, so I'm giving it its own slot. As there seems to have been some confusion, my "Between the Lines" series is a series of one shots designed to expand upon, not to rewrite, the anime or manga. "Cutting room floor scenes," if you will. "Dream Date" is based on that same concept. There are differences, obviously, between this and the anime, but I'm sticking as closely as I can without cramping "Dream Date's" own integrity.

It also, as turns out, serves as something of a prequel to my "Yushu." For "Yushu" and my other "original" Gravi stories, please check my profile.

Now...for a bit of midweek light operatic relief, a la Ryuichi and Kuma-chan.

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴  
**The Bronx is Up  
b**y Vindaloo  
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"_New York, New York! A wunnerful town..."_

Ryuichi was singing.

That wasn't unusual.

In English.

Also not unusual.

He was dancing around the studio with Kumagoro, making the pink bunny do a John Travolta imitation.

That...was a welcome return to normalcy, and boded well for the future, especially when combined with the message Hiro had gotten from Shu that morning.

Hiro yawned and scratched his head, trying to follow the song, but while the melody was vaguely familiar, he couldn't wrap his mind around any words other than 'New York' this morning so gave up.

Suguru was busy at the synth, his head covered by earphones, the intense look of "genius at work" on his face. Another good sign. Obviously, he'd gotten the same email Hiro had that morning. An email with an MP3 of a simple, beautiful melody...

And the best lyrics Shuuichi had ever written.

He didn't see Shuuichi, which surprised him. The TM last night implied Shuuichi was better, the email this morning certainly implied the tour was on. He was more than half-expecting an exuberant Shu greeting...complete with voice.

But there was no Shu.

Sakano was standing at the window of the empty sound booth, staring in as if shell-shocked. Curious he moved up and looked over the producer's shoulder.

There, in the center of the room, eyes that shimmered between purple and deep blue stared vibrantly back at him...

...from the polished hardwood floor.

A life-sized cartoon figure had been scrawled in crayon, looking like a rather lively crime scene victim. Lightning bolts blazed out from the dynamic figure, making it shimmer with a curious energy.

"Oh, dear," he commented, and Sakano said, in a flat voice and still staring:

"K says we can charge admission. Extra for photos."

"Oh." Was all he could think of to say as Ryu darted in and threw himself and Kumagoro down in the middle of the floor, his arm raised as if around the figure's shoulder.

"Kuma-chan first! Kuma-chan wants his picture taken with sparkling Shuuichi!"

And then, Ryu was up and dancing again, his song now a chant, in Japanese: "Sparkling Shuuichi! Shuuichi sparkling..."

Hiro scratched his head, more confused than ever.

"Where's Shuuichi?" he asked finally, and when Sakano turned to face him, a question on his face, he clarified: "He said meet him here."

"Said?" Sakano asked, hope flaring in his eyes.

"Well, emailed."

Hope died.

"He's not here yet, then?" his confusion mounted.

Sakano pointed down-building. So...Shu _was _here.

"In the lounge?" Hiro persisted patiently in his search for useful details.

Sakano nodded.

"With K?"

Another nod.

His own hope flared.

"So his voice _is_ back?"

A slow negative.

"Leaving." Sakano intoned flatly.

"But..." The email said get the song ready, that it would be their opener.

Tonight.

At Zepp Tokyo.

"Where?"

Sakano's mouth began to quiver and his eyes filled.

"_New York, New York! A wunnerful town. The Bronx is up and the Battery's down. The people ride in a hole in the ground—"_

Giving up on Sakano, Hiro caught Ryu as he spun by, grabbed the pink bunny and held it easily out of the singer's reach until Ryu, whimpering, sank to his knees begging for the bunny back.

"Where's Shu going, Ryu?"

The sun broke out on Ryu's face.

"_New York, New York—"_

"New York. To find Yuki?"

Ryu's eyes narrowed. "Yuki, but not Eiri."

"I don't understand."

"He wants to find a dead man."

"He's going to New York to go to a graveyard?" Damn, the joys of dealing with Ryu.

"Going to New York to find his sparkle."

He lowered Kuma and Ryu's face went young and hopeful.

"Please, Ryu, not now."

Ryu rose slowly to his feet, and said soberly, but with a secret smile on his face, "He's going to New York to find Yuki, who has gone to New York to find Yuki. When he finds the two Yuki's, he'll find his sparkle, and he'll come back home and we'll all sparkle together."

"His sparkle. That's...what he's been missing, isn't it?"

A slow nod, and he was Ryu the ageless. "Shuuichi's been singing for everyone else. It's time Shuuichi began singing for Shuuichi again."

It was, Hiro knew, the answer he'd been seeking for weeks. Trust Ryu.

"Thanks," he said simply, and held out the pink bunny.

Ryu grinned, took the bunny, and began to dance.

**TBC**

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**Next: Memories:** Yuki in NYC.

Reviews: **Gabrielle Angelique: **Thanks! Glad you're enjoying the lot. I'm about halfway through with the stories I've got already in rough draft, so there's still some to go when Dream Date is finished!

**Daxemon**: Oooo...get well soon! Do you have a temp? That horrible sore throat makes it sound like it might be the flu I had earlier. Be VERY careful, OK? Hopefully this update will give you a few giggles to make you feel better.

**Saint Germaine:** No problem! Again, get well soon. I think the anime emphasizes the similarities between Shu and Ryu and the manga brings out the differences. There's a fascinating, almost sociopathic aspect to Ryu in the manga. His manipulation of Shu is ruthless. (See response to FP)

**FraisesPasteque**: YAYAYAYAY! I haven't gotten GravEx yet, but I've seen the first few tracks in online scanlations. I'm real dubious about where MM seems to be taking Ryu's feelings for Shu. I hope she doesn't make it that simple, and gives Ryu's actions a more interesting, twisted psychological component than I've seen indicated yet. In the anime or the original. In both the anime and the manga there's a sense that Shu represents a special challenge...and opportunity...to Ryu. Talent only flourishes when pushed. At a certain point, an artist loses the ability to push themselves and it gets very lonely there at the top. Shu offers both a challenge and potential companionship to Ryu. Understanding of a kind far more valuable than sex. Creative understanding that is, in its own way, more orgasmic than sex. I see the REAL chemistry between Shu and Yuki to be a combination of both (creativity and sex), hence its undeniable strength.

**RH-P**: Thanks! Glad you approve.

**AoMe Hs:** Wow! Good luck on those exams. Definitely, Shu got it figured. Now...he just needs to do something about it.

**Sayuri-girl:** The Shu of the anime is quite different from the OVA or manga Shu. He truly does take a giant leap toward maturity. His whole inability to really mesh with chibi-Ryu in the coloring scene, the somber tone of the park scene, his level-gazed "both" to K's question regarding the choice between Yuki or the tour, and finally, his reaction to Yuki's assessment of his lyrics in NY, all point to a maturity that gives the entire story arc an excellent denouement. (I think the dog suit was mostly an attempt to say chibi-Shu is still alive and well beneath the maturity. Hope y'all like my interpretation of the dog suit, when I get there.)

I adore the OVA and I love the manga, but they're both predicated on a nearly steady-state relationship between Yuki and Shu. Finally, in the last track of the manga, there's a semi-resolution, but it's still very enigmatic. The anime has a much more focused resolution as well as character development of both Shu and Yuki that implies a solid ending, which is what I guess is in part I'm trying to capture in this scene.

As for his thought processes, I based those on the flashbacks they show in the park scene, but also the need to explain how he knows where to go and that there's an urgency to his getting there. Do I think he'd actually _verbalize_ all these things to himself exactly as I wrote them? Probably not. But then, I'm not sure his thoughts would actually be intelligible. Say it's my interpretation of his random thought processes and gut feelings. :D:D:D:D

I can't really take much claim for the lyrics, I don't read/speak Japanese, but I'm glad my attempt to interpret a couple different literal translations (which don't always make a lot of sense:D) worked. (I'm embarrassed to say, I don't know who did the translations I used. I couldn't find the sites again.) Anyway, I wasn't really sure of them. It was something I added just before I posted. It needed it; I'm delighted it worked.

**Supershu-chan**: You're so sweet. And you're doing just fine. Love your stories. I just feel _so _sorry for Shu in this scene. His two great loves have both deserted him. Fortunately, he wins in the end. (Doesn't he always?) And I _adore _the puzzle aspect of story-telling, of finding the way all the puzzle pieces fit together...always, of course, leaving one or two spaces open. Every puzzle has to have a missing piece or two or the gods get angry. :D:D:D I'm not actually from Texas, but my partner has family there we go visit each year. I'm born and raised in Washington State, but I lived in Oklahoma for a number of years. Saltgrass...Saltgrass...Is it related to the Saltgrass Steakhouse:D It's _definitely_ yummy in there! Oh, noooo...Oreo Cheesecake. My computer's going to explode! (Thank you! (Licks virtual chops))

**Scorch66**: Whew! (Wipes forehead in relief) I was really amazed when I found the translation for the rest of the lyrics at how well it fit into that final episode. Whoever is responsible for the songs used in the show has a truly elegant touch with symbolism. I'm just glad that the soundtracks have the entire song rather than just the first verse as the use in the show.

**Kimra Dattei:** Thanks for the review (gives an extra Shu hug). I love the OVA. I'm flabbergasted at one of the reviews that called it pointless and without a plot. I beg to differ! And I agree, it's actually closer to the original manga flavor. In the Moonlight is one of my favorite songs and moments in all of Gravidom. And I love all the sight gags. The look is definitely truer to the early manga, which I really liked, though I've certainly nothing against our beautiful little Shu from the Anime!

**Lady Karai:** How 'bout I just say: Thanks. :D

Okay, now that I've successfully doubled the length of this post, I'll just say bye bye until the weekend. Promise, the next chapter is much longer.

Vin


	17. Memories

**Disclaimer**: Gravitation is all Maki Murakami's brainchild. I'm just playing in the sandbox with no profit to myself other than joy.

**A/N**: This belongs, technically, with my "Between the Lines" series, but it has long since gone beyond a oneshot, so I'm giving it its own slot. As there seems to have been some confusion, my "Between the Lines" series is a series of one shots designed to expand upon, not to rewrite, the anime or manga. "Cutting room floor scenes," if you will. "Dream Date" is based on that same concept. There are differences, obviously, between this and the anime, but I'm sticking as closely as I can without cramping "Dream Date's" own integrity.

It also, as turns out, serves as something of a prequel to my "Yushu." For "Yushu" and my other "original" Gravi stories, please check my profile.

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**Memories  
**by Vindaloo  
✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

It was tomorrow morning in Tokyo now, Eiri thought, watching the snow drifting softly outside the taxi window. In just a few hours, Shuuichi would be on stage in the kickoff performance of his first tour.

Good for him. He'd moved on, sensible lad that he was. Happy and on schedule for the sell-out tour.

Eiri had kept track of the brat, for want of better things to occupy his time, had seen the interviews, recalled marking the record-setting sell-out with his own solitary celebration...that had been somewhere around Chicago. He didn't quite recall where, having passed out in the bar where he'd seen the days-old rebroadcast, and waked up in a park...somewhere.

The last he'd heard (via a stolen internet moment on an unsecured WiFi) were the typical last minute rumors of problems, of Suguru with broken fingers, of Shuuichi's voice gone and stolen guitars.

Typical Bad Luck melodrama, the lot of it planted, more than likely, by their nutcase of a manager. None of it meant anything. Not to him. It couldn't. Not now. Not when his answers were so fucking close. Now, he was in a taxi, driving through increasingly heavy snow, toward...

Him.

He'd booked a room at the Algonquin, though he wasn't certain he'd use it. The Algonquin was Touma's hotel of choice when visiting New York and therefore possibly the last place his brother-in-law would look for him. He had, however, put it on his credit card, which meant, eventually, very soon, in fact, Touma _would _know.

K would see to that.

Yuki just hoped that when they did, they'd have the sense to keep that information from Shuuichi, who damned well didn't need distraction tonight, of all nights. It wasn't as if the brat could interfere with him now, even if he wanted to, which he prayed to all the gods Shuuichi did not. No, Shuuichi couldn't interfere... even if Eiri wanted him to.

Which he didn't. This ... this was between Kitazawa Yuki and Uesugi Eiri. And by the time anyone could figure it out, one way or another, this, whatever _this_ was, would be settled.

The fact was, he _didn't _know what the night would bring; had planned nothing, a relinquishing of control utterly terrifying, in its way. He was not a man known for his spontaneous nature. It was something he'd learned from a day in an amusement park with Shu, a concept he'd had two weeks of bus rides to consider.

Shu was all about going with the flow, living the moment, and Shu had somehow managed to leave _his_ assault behind, had even made a bizarre kind of peace with Aizawa Taki. Eiri didn't approve, but he did, in his own way, admire the idiot's strength of character.

He needed that strength now, and drew on the memory of courageous little Shu to help him set foot outside the cab door and take the pathway into the park, a pathway far different from the last time he'd walked it.

It had been spring then, the air filled with sparkling motes, dandelion seeds blown into the air by the children laughing and chasing each other across the delicate, spring-green grass.

_He'd _been waiting, beneath...

Eiri glanced around the artificially-lit park, cones of light piercing through the snowfall.

..._that_ tree.

Gods. Six years and he still recognized it.

A fucking tree.

He stood there, staring down at the undisturbed snowcover, thinner there, beneath the skeletal tree.

It hadn't been skeletal that day, but bright with new-growth green.

_He'd_ been sitting there, reading, as the child Eiri had been came running up the path now marked by a handful of footprints in the snow. _He'd _looked up. Frowning slightly.

Even now, six years after the fact, Eiri's blood chilled.

Why? Why the frown? Why...the fear?

He remembered apologizing, for some stupid reason, for being late. Had begun to explain ... something ...

He frowned into the darkness. He'd been delayed. Why? Something to do with Touma, he remembered that much, and when he'd started to explain, that excuse had caught in his throat. Fear had coursed through him.

That...was odd. He'd had every right to be with Touma. Touma had had every right to command his time, had paid Kitazawa-sensei's salary. But he'd been...afraid to admit it, afraid to admit he'd been with his benefactor. Had asked Kitazawa-sensei if he was angry and Kitazawa had said, _Of course not._

But his eyes had said otherwise.

Why?

He searched his memory, but there was no answer, and as he sought, the spring sun faded into the cone of light from the nearest lamp as gold and green of spring faded to winter's chilling black and white.

The answer...wasn't here.

✴✴✴

"_Shu-kun, I'm sorry, I don't _know_ where he is."_

_I do._

_Shock fills his manager's face. "Where?"_

_Kitazawa Yuki._

"_Kitazawa Yuki is—"_

Shuuichi jerked awake. The vibration of the stealth jet rippled through him, preceding the sound which had become white noise after the first hour.

Dead. Kitazawa Yuki was dead. K had known. And K had asked, was Yuki going to the cemetery, and he'd held up six fingers.

K had just shaken his head, but Ryu had danced up and explained, knowing, as Ryu seemed to know everything, that Shu wanted to go not where Kitazawa was, but where Kitazawa had been.

Six years ago.

That's when K had taken him out of the studio to try to 'talk sense into him.' But K could have saved his breath. He knew what he had to do and he'd have done it if it had meant locking himself into a suitcase and shipping himself to America as baggage.

Yuki needed him. Almost as much as he needed Yuki. And he'd get to New York, and he'd find Yuki.

One way or another.

But K, as K always did, had come through. He'd get to New York. He'd get to that address K had found in just over three minutes on his secure phone.

He only hoped he'd get there in time.

✴✴✴

Funny, how his feet remembered a path taken only once and six years ago.

Yuki walked slowly along the increasingly suspect route, his mind barely registering the broken lights, bullet tracks and gang graffiti.

It had been...better back then. Unless, of course, the presence of Kitazawa Yuki had only made it seem that way.

But surely that now broken-glassed and vacant building had been a viable storefront, once upon a time. He recalled ... a blank-faced head. Several of them. Bearing elaborate hats and ...wigs. One of those wigs had been pink—no magenta.

He felt a faint smile stretch his lips as he moved on.

That...that had been a used bookstore. He'd only been there once, but, oh, such a memorable outing it had been. It was there he'd met Kitazawa-sensei.

_I want to be an author someday..._

Gods, he'd been...so young. Sixteen, by the calendar, but a more naïve sixteen-year-old had never been birthed. He'd never had friends, never shared the mysteries of maturation with other boys his age. He'd been left on his own to understand the strange feelings beginning to infiltrate his nights. He'd read...plenty. But he hadn't _known_.

Women had meant nothing to him back then, the only one of his direct acquaintance being an older sister who was more mother than sister, yet he could attest he was not, in some genetic sense, _gay._ There'd been no man other than Shuuichi who had roused the least interest in him. Not since Yuki. Not before Yuki, either.

No, the passion both Yuki and Shuuichi kindled in him was as much creative as sexual. As much, but not more. His love for Yuki had been, from the start, visceral.

As his love for Shuuichi had been...and continued to be.

Heat surged through him, banishing the chill of the snow-filled night, and he wondered, distantly, was it thoughts of Yuki—or Shuuichi—that fanned that internal blaze.

And then, gently, he pushed Shuuichi's insidiously soft essence away, banished it into the pristine drifts of the small park across the street.

Tonight...wasn't about Shu, it was about...Yuki.

He remembered he'd returned with his new friend to Touma's Soho apartment, and within the week Yuki had been hired as his tutor. And now, _their_ bookstore... was a burned out husk.

Had it ever really existed as memory painted it?

An alleyway beckoned, only slightly less welcoming than the detritus-strewn street. He frowned into the shadows. Snow on his cheeks melted, dripping down like tears.

Or rain.

He closed his eyes and tipped his head back as thunder rumbled in memory's ears. Rain struck his face and Yuki's hand on his pulled him into the alley. And Yuki's lips—

Screams shattered the still night.

He started and half-turned, his eyes snapping open to the sight of an old man, grey-haired and skeletal, scrambling, tripping down the alleyway. Two meters away, the old man stumbled, fell.

And a gun flew free, landing in the snow at Eiri's feet.

A curse, a snarl, a gnarled hand reaching as the lined face lifted. Sunken eyes met his—

And the hand froze.

A siren blared. The old man blinked, gasped, staggered to his feet, and disappeared around the corner.

Leaving the gun.

A heartbeat later, a cold, tired-looking cop appeared at the far end of the alleyway. Eiri took one step forward, placing the gun in his shadow.

"Did you see an old man run down here?" the cop asked and Eiri tipped his head in the opposite direction from the old man's escape route. The cop frowned, gave the multitudinous snow-obscured tracks a cursory glance, muttered something that was likely obscene, and headed back the way he'd come.

Eiri stared down at the gun, already half-covered in snow.

Why had he lied? More to the point, why had he hidden the gun from the cop? The old man ... hell, that purse he'd stolen probably represented the last hit he'd ever make. One more stash, one more night in drug induced utopia and he'd be history anyway. But the gun...

The gun that was, somehow, in his hand, cool and hard, balanced...as though it belonged there. He stared at it, vaguely repulsed at the thought. He hadn't held a firearm of any sort since ... that day. Except...

An arcade. Zombies, werewolves and aliens. Small arms hugging him close. And just as it had been six years ago, each shot had been ... deadly accurate.

Perhaps, he thought wryly, he'd been a sharpshooter in a previous life.

Or an assassin.

Such a pleasant self-image.

One thing was certain, he couldn't leave the thing lying in the alleyway. He slipped the pistol into his pocket and instantly forgot it as well as the old man, following memory around the corner and up a short iron staircase to a doorway. A door peeling paint and hanging by one hinge. A door Kitazawa Yuki had unlocked with a key on his keyring.

Yuki had lived here. Only six years ago.

Had it declined that much? Or had it been seedy, even back then? Had memory—or his sensei's presence—made it seem ... greater somehow?

He stepped past the door and up two flights of stairs. There was evidence of inhabitancy, but not, he suspected, legitimate tenancy. Eyes flashed and disappeared, scrambling noises happened behind shattered doorways. He ignored them all, climbing step by deliberate step, pausing only when he reached the top of the stairs.

This ... this was the hallway he remembered.

He closed his eyes waiting for the memory-pain to wrack his body, pain that ... didn't come. Instead, it was hands. Hands roaming up his leg, and in his mind's eye, he saw not the men who'd raped him, but his sensei's beloved brown eyes.

Eyes clouded with drink.

A face gazing up at him from the vicinity of his virginal crotch.

His sensei's voice whispering in memory's ear: _You're such a good boy, my Eiri, my perfect, obedient student..._

Eiri's head went light and he caught himself against the wall. Uncertain feet took him three steps down the hall, numb fingers pressed The Door open and he was there.

Yuki's room.

Where his life had changed forever.

✴✴✴

"_All right, kid," _a voice said in his ear, _"hop out. Chopper's waiting."_

A voice in badly accented Japanese.

Shuuichi shook himself awake, and as the cockpit shield rolled back, stood and jumped free of the still-taxiing jet into the waiting arms of one of K's men, who didn't even bother to set him down, but tossed him to someone else, who carried him beneath the thrumming rotor to the waiting helicopter, a secure hold for which, from the blast of air that tried to knock him loose, he was extremely grateful.

He gasped in wonder as the rhythm of the rotor increased and he was pressed down into the seat. He watched the lights of the airport sink rapidly into the snow, then turned to the bag that had followed him into the helicopter.

Careful not to disturb the pilot, he wriggled free of the flight suit and into the warm clothing K had found for him, warm, furry garments into which he huddled gratefully.

It had been morning when he left Japan. It was dark here now. Late. _How _late? he wondered, fear coursing through him.

Please, he whispered silently, let me be in time...

✴✴✴

_A single bare bulb lit the hallway, casting eerie shadows. _

_It was, Eiri thought vaguely, a place out of a haunted house, like the one Yuki had taken him to last Hallowe'en. Not the sort of place he'd associated with his sensei, but ... interesting, nonetheless._

_He refused to be frightened, instead taking in the details, as Yuki had taught him, memorizing the moment, gathering experience which he could tap at will for his novels._

_Yuki unlocked the middle door, then turned to him, where he leaned, back to the wall, examining those shadows. _

_A sloshy _thump_ next his head startled him. It was the wine bottle Yuki had had with him in the park, the bottle from which he'd drunk all the long walk here._

_Yuki's other hand pressed the wall on the other side of his head, holding him captive. Not the arms...he could duck free easily. No, it was Yuki's face, centimeters from his own and moving closer that froze his muscles._

"_My Eiri. My beautiful, perfect student."_

_Eiri stared in wonder—he'd dreamed of his beloved sensei's touch nightly for months_—_yet a part of him objected. He could smell the alcohol on Yuki's breath. He knew it was wrong and that Touma would never forgive him, let alone the man he'd hired to teach him English and mathematics ... not this._

"_Wait," he whispered, without conviction. "Stop."_

"_Stop?" A final swallow and the bottle dropped, empty, to the floor. Yuki sank slowly to his knees, his hands tracing delightfully forbidden tracks along Eiri's body. "You don't mean that." His eyes moved up from Eiri's crotch to catch and hold his gaze. "I've seen you watching me."_

"_But that's not..."_

"_Hmph." Mesmeric eyes closed, briefly breaking the spell. "Not? Don't be silly, my perfect, obedient student. I know what you want. Haven't I always?"_

_He knew it was wrong, but his heart fluttered, his body tightened, wanting that forbidden but oh-so-exciting touch to continue. Suddenly—_

"_Hey!" Another voice, rough, crude, shattered the moment. "What do you think you're doing?"_

"_Shit." Yuki's eyes closed again, then with a grunt, he stood up._

_Eiri looked down the hallway in some relief, even as his body screamed a protest. Another tenant, he thought. He found a smile, began preparing both his excuses and his escape from this place._

_Away from his suddenly stranger-sensei._

_Two men, one black, one white. Large men, dressed in rough clothing._

_Their stench filled the hallway, turning his stomach._

"_Out of the way, Yuki." The black man moved between him and his sensei, staring down at Eiri with a look that made him feel...dirty._

_Yuki swore again, but stood back, looking expectantly at the man with stringy blond hair, smiling, a cold, Mona Lisa smile when the blond man stretched a bill out to him._

"_Ten bucks, I think you said?"_

_Yuki's pale, slender, manicured hand met that filthy block-fingered one, accepting the offering while carefully avoiding physical contact. Then, he gave a slight, mocking bow, lifting a hand toward Eiri._

"_After you, gentlemen."_

✴✴✴

The chopper lowered precisely between the trees of the tiny park, and hovered, waiting.

Shuuichi had ceased to wonder at the pilot's skill, had ceased to expect any comment he could understand. This was it, he knew, and he slid out, slipping to the snowy ground in the downdraft, unable to find purchase in the thick snow cover.

A gloved hand reached, hauled him to his feet and hurried him away threw the frosty fog of blowing snow. He didn't argue, just let himself be hauled. He didn't argue, because he didn't have to.

His heart knew exactly where he was headed.

✴✴✴

"After you..." Eiri repeated his sensei's words softly, to a room now filled with ghosts and shadows. He found himself sitting on the floor of that room which had been burned into his memory, his back to the wall of windows.

Six years ago, rain had pelted those windows, thunder and lightning had cast the events within into sharp relief. Tonight, streetlights made shadow windows across the floor, the only movement the slowly drifting snow.

_After you..._

So, he had his answer. After six years, he knew exactly why he'd killed Kitazawa Yuki along with his rapists: because Kitazawa had been one of them. More, he'd sold his student to those filthy pigs.

For ten lousy American dollars.

Not many people could claim to know their own worth.

Kitazawa had used his blindly loving trust to betray him, and in return, he'd killed him, in cold-blooded anger.

He knew now why he'd rejected love, both as a concept and within his own life. Love wasn't the stuff of dreams, but rather the detritus of nightmares.

No wonder he'd come to specialize in tragic romance novels. No wonder he'd always scoffed Shuuichi's naive attempts at love songs. Write what you know, he'd told him. Couldn't claim he didn't follow his own advice...though not even he had managed to contrive quite so twisted an ending as life had handed him.

"If you hated me that much," he said to the ghost of his tutor, floating in the shadows beyond the snow-shadows, "why didn't you just tell me?" He reached for his cigarettes, encountered the gun, which he shifted to his other hand as he pulled out his cigarettes. He mouthed one and pocketed the pack, reached for his lighter with the same hand, his left hanging limp and heavy now between his legs. "There was no reason for you to die, Kitazawa-sensei."

His fault, no matter what way you examined the evidence.

_I've seen the way you look at me._

He couldn't deny, he'd had special feelings for Yuki. Young, painfully naïve, he hadn't put form to those feelings, but he'd obviously done something to trigger such a violent response.

_We'll be together forever, won't we?_

Pushing, pursuing, always demanding more of his sensei. He'd driven Yuki into a corner and when Yuki reacted...

He'd killed him. He stared down at that floor, the throw rug, threadbare six years ago, now ragged and rotting, the scarred wood that still bore the stains of blood and wine.

He'd pushed for something more, and Yuki had had to get drunk to give it to him.

Between his legs, cradled in his limp left hand, was the pistol the old man had dropped. He stared at that instrument of death, contemporary counterpart of the one brought here six years ago by the man with the filthy blond hair. That man had held him down while his partner took him, had rubbed his crotch with their victim's clenched fist. And just above that arousal, thrust carelessly into his belt...

He'd grabbed that pistol, completely without conscious thought. His finger had triggered the first shot before the barrel cleared the man's belt.

There'd been...a great deal of blood from that one.

And then, he'd taken them out, one by one, as coldly deliberate in his aim as he'd been in the arcade that day with Shuuichi. The two men hired to rape him, and the man to whom he'd have given himself willingly, had he only asked.

He'd ruthlessly erased them...like a badly written line in a novel. Uesugi Eiri: life's editor. Unfortunately, he'd red-lined the wrong character.

"By rights, the one who should have been erased," he murmured to the shadows, "was me."

The gun called to him. Mocked him. Dared him to complete the story as it should have been written six years ago. Which raised a curious question:

Was that why he'd come here? Had he intended all along to end his life here? Yuki Eiri had been born in this room. It was, somehow, poetically appropriate that he die here as well.

He hadn't _needed_ the pistol fate had tossed at his feet; the simple disposable razors in the bag he carried would have done the job admirably. However, that same poetic justice would have him spread his brains as well as his blood on this floor, a new stain beside that of his tutor's.

Had Yuki's ghost sent the old man running down the alley? Was Yuki ... calling him from the grave? Demanding justice? Or were the gods themselves offering him a reprieve from his own conscience?

He simply didn't believe in coincidence on this scale.

His fingers deserted the lighter in his pocket, found and fingered the invisible scars on his wrist.

_I tried,_ he thought to that shade from the past. _I tried to join you. Tried to pay for my sins._

But it had been for naught. Touma had discovered him in the bathroom, had stopped the bleeding, had hired the best doctors and plastic surgeons, first to heal and then to wipe the evidence clean.

If it weren't for the blood-stained shirt he'd hidden deep in his closet, he might have been convinced it never happened. But it had happened. He'd tried to kill himself, then he'd been forced to survive, and so the guilt lived on, finding subtler recourse in chain smoking and alcohol-induced stupors.

Not even Touma could cure cancer.

But he'd taken too long. His body had fought too brave a battle against his attempts to destroy it, and suddenly, despite his attempts to stop it, his life had become ... precious. Enriched.

_Damn you, Shindou Shuuichi._

He sighed and reached again for the lighter, and deserting that stain in the floor at last, shifted his focus to the lighter—

Brilliant amethyst eyes sparkled at him through his fingertips.

_As long as I have this..._

"_Damn you," _he whispered to the new ghost in the room. _"Damn you, you..."_

Priceless bundle of bubbling enthusiasm. You hedonistic, self-centered brat with the voice of an angel. You living breathing purveyor of optimism.

Damn your stupid pink hair.

Damn your courage.

Damn your sweetness.

Damn your kittenish claws that have sunk into my heart and refused to let go.

_Let me go, _he thought. _Please, Shuuichi. You don't need me. That golden album will go platinum in time. You're better off without me. What the hell do I know about lyrics? And who the hell cares what you sing? You could sing the phone book and hearts would break..._

Shuuichi would cry, but he'd forgive him.

He drew a deep lungful of smoke, let it out a ring at a time.

The media would love it.

He put the cigarette back between his lips, holding it lightly.

_Tragic Romance Author Meets Tragic End in Blast from the Past._

He lifted the gun slowly. Looked curiously down the barrel, watching the snow shadows' warped passage along the gleaming length, noting the tiny ridges on the inside, ridges that made the bullet spin and put a pattern unique as a fingerprint on each bullet that escaped, thinking distantly that it was too bad he'd never be able to use the notes he'd be taking in the next handful of breaths.

Nice to know, however, that he was true to his profession.

Right to the end.

**TBC**

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

**Next: Resurrection: **Shu to the rescue!

**Reviews**:

**Nameless**: First, there's no need to impugn other readers in order to state your personal opinion. Second, critical comment that actually addressed the issue of the qualities of the writing which you consider lacking would have been useful. However, the objections regarding format you raise are things I considered carefully before posting.

The length of all my posts (1000 to 5000 words) is determined by two factors. What "feels" to me like it stands, however briefly, alone and what I can handle in an evening before posting. The absolute length is as long as the chapter in question needs to be. I tend to rewrite a lot and this pattern of posting prevents me from obsessing on a segment as I know I can and for which I haven't time. I endeavor to make up for length by posting often. This is a pattern of which clever people who like longer postings can take note and choose not to read until several chapters have accumulated. It also allows those with just a little time something with which to take a quick break. Heck, I've heard from people who are waiting until the entire thing is posted before reading it.

Whatever rings your chimes.

As to the review responses, the first few times I did this format, I asked for reactions. I got only positive feedback and in fact comments when I failed to respond to someone. This is the first negative CC I've gotten, and frankly I'm not surprised that it came to a post that was half review responses. This was because the chapter itself was short fluff but followed a fairly dense chapter which inspired the reviews to which I was responding.

In general, long responses (such as this one) are observations/answers to comments/questions which might well be shared by other readers, hence my preference for this format. (In fact, the review from amyhavok is a good case in point.) If you don't want to read them, that's why god invented the back button on your computer. (Or ctrl + pg dn if you want to leave a CC) They're always the final part of any posting, and so easy to skip.

Thanks for taking the time to leave your opinion.

**Daxemon and Saint Germaine:** glad you're feeling better!

**Amyhavok**: The Shu/Ryu relationship, manga or anime, has always seemed to me a very unique mentorship. Even the challenge at the end of the manga is a conscious manipulation on Ryu's part to forge his replacement so he can feel free to go to Hollywood. I _so_ hope he's consciously challenging the relationship to push the boys together. It'd be so much more IC for the more interesting side of him, i.e. taking care of Shu's best interests by screwing with his head. It's so wonderfully machiavellian.

**Everyone else:** thanks and Big Shu Hugs.


	18. Resurrection

**Disclaimer**: Gravitation is all Maki Murakami's brainchild. I'm just playing in the sandbox with no profit to myself other than joy.

**A/N**: This belongs, technically, with my "Between the Lines" series, but it has long since gone beyond a oneshot, so I'm giving it its own slot. As there seems to have been some confusion, my "Between the Lines" series is a series of one shots designed to expand upon, not to rewrite, the anime or manga. "Cutting room floor scenes," if you will. "Dream Date" is based on that same concept. There are differences, obviously, between this and the anime, but I'm sticking as closely as I can without cramping "Dream Date's" own integrity.

It also, as turns out, serves as something of a prequel to my "Yushu." For "Yushu" and my other "original" Gravi stories, please check my profile.

**Warning: **Slight (by Gravi standards) touch of citrus.

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴  
**Resurrection  
**by Vindaloo  
✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

_Yuki!_

Shuuichi's heart stopped.

Something..._something_ was about to happen.

Panic surged and Shuuichi pushed past his guide, skimming up the stairs faster, leaving the black-clothed men in his wake.

_Nonononononononono-nooooooooooo!_

He stumbled around the final broken stair rail and down the hall to the doorway he knew, _knew_ was his goal, grabbed the jamb and swung in.

✴✴✴

Thudding drum of feet on the steps. Light, but determined patter of feet running in the hallway. Uneven, broken rhythm as the feet dodged and leapt the accumulated detritus of years. A hissing skid, coming to a halt at the door. _His_ door.

Yuki glanced up from the gleaming barrel in irritation and encountered a miniature, snow-encrusted grizzly bear. A miniature grizzly bear with a bright orange muffler and mittens.

No. (He blinked his eyes clear of the past.) Not a bear. Not even a dog. Fake brown fur. Lots of it. A clothing designer's nightmare. Brown furry snow boots and gloves. Brown furry knee-length coat. Brown furry earflap hat...and beneath the hat...

He blinked again, sending tears dripping down his cheeks, convinced now that he must be going mad, that his own hopeless need and that damned sticker had him hallucinating.

He'd swear it was pink hair poking out from beneath that cap.

And slowly, as the large eyes adapted to the light coming in the window, they went from glowing, feral red to a heart-wrenchingly familiar purple.

"Shu?" He hazarded, tempting his own sanity. "Is that you?"

"Damn right—" The soft voice caught on a cough. Then tried again. "Damn right, it's me."

His angelic voice sounded a bit hoarse. As if he'd just waked up . . . or, thinking of those rumors, hadn't spoken for a long, _long_ time.

"H–how did you find—"

The tiny bear moved into the snow-patterned light from the windows. "What did you think? That you'd escape me so easily?"

He let his head fall back against the window. "Idiot. You should have left well enough alone. Should have gone on with you life."

"Not an option."

"Bullshit."

"I _said_ that's not an option."

The small figure stomped across the room, shedding snow all the way. One small, suddenly naked hand, reached into a huge pocket and pulled out a rumpled sheet of paper. Heavy paper from that drawing tablet the brat carried around to scrawl lyrics in along with his half-assed sketches.

"Read it."

"Go home, Shuuichi."

The small hand shook the paper right in front of his nose. _"Read it."_

"Fuck. You always were a self-centered bastard." In sheer self-defense he snatched the paper from Shu's fingers and ran his eyes down it.

"Remember it? Despite all your efforts to make me quit, _I finished it._"

Of course he remembered it. It was the song the idiot had been working on in the park that first night. Except . . . it wasn't. It was more. So...very much more. Tears sprang to Yuki's eyes as with those lyrics, Shuuichi gave him...everything. The joy of their weeks together, the heartbreak of the last two months—Shu's hope for their future. Together.

All in those deceptively simple lyrics.

He blinked his eyes clear and met the impassioned, unblinking stare of the young man he'd deserted almost two months before.

Two...interminable...months.

"I knew where you'd be. I— _I_, Shindou Shuuichi figured it out." Shuuichi small mouth pressed tight in a determined little line. "You can run, Yuki Eiri. You can run. You can hide. You can even kill yourself, but you'll never escape me. _Ever._ Why? Because I _love_ you, Eiri."

Eiri blinked, stunned.

"Do you understand?" Shuuichi persisted.

He glanced down at those oh-so-heartfelt lyrics, seeking...something. The assurance, the...hope that their gentle author must have felt when he wrote them.

That small, not-so-gentle hand gripped his chin and forced his head up, forced him to meet that blazing purple gaze. "Do—you—understand?"

He lifted the sheet to look again at those tell-all lyrics, then back to that demanding face. "You still have zero talent," he muttered, defending more than his professional honor, and, amazingly, Shuuichi's face broke into an easy, relieved smile. The small hand released his chin to caress his cheek and Shuuichi said softly, gently:

"But then, what would you know? You're just a lousy Romance author."

His own thoughts, tossed back at him. With...love.

Something inside Yuki snapped. The lighter slipped from fingers gone numb, and he grabbed Shuuichi, pulling him close, sweeping that stupid hat aside, seeking and finding those impossibly sweet lips. Sugar mixed with salt.

Tears.

He sat there on the battered floor, hugging that small, improbably flexible (despite the stupid coat that doubled his bulk) body, kissing away the tears, wallowing in the intoxicating blend of giggles and whimpers, reveling in the sheer life that exuded from Shindou Shuuichi's very pores.

"Dear, sweet Buddha in heaven," he whispered into the pink mop, gasping after breath that seemed suddenly very elusive as warm lips closed on his ear, "I love you."

The words had escaped before his wiser self could stop them.

Shuuichi became very still.

The brat had maneuvered his way onto Yuki's lap, his legs (sans furry boots) were wrapped around Yuki's waist, tucked inside Yuki's long wool coat. One arm (sans furry sleeve) had worked its way inside Yuki's coat as well, and up under the cashmere sweater, where it had been busily working his silk shirt free of his fine wool slacks.

It was fucking cold out; as cold inside the abandoned building as without; and yet miraculously, thanks to the octopus of life currently engulfing him, he was warm, even on fire, for the first time in two months.

He closed his eyes and let the warmth reach into his very bones, quieting the shivers that had ruled him ever since the day at Oneida park.

"How much?" Warm breath whispered in his ear.

"Hmmm?"

Shuuichi reached down between them for the lighter lying on the floor beneath them. Holding the lighter like a talisman to his chest, he then leaned far to the side, his slender fingers seeking the gun he'd deliberately swept aside earlier. He straightened and pressing both objects to his chest, asked firmly:

"I said, how much do you love me?"

Choose, he was saying. Life with Shuuichi—without Yuki. Or death with Yuki—without Shuuichi. Could he? Could he do it? He knew, now, Yuki had sold him. For a pittance. Yuki had wanted him, and yet he'd sold him. He'd let those men have him, then stepped in, ready to take their cast-off.

Their cast-off. A humiliated, broken, sixteen-year-old whose only crime had been to love his tutor with all his heart.

_Why, Yuki?_ Eiri's heart cried out. _Why did you do it?_

Could he do it? Could he forget that past when so major a factor remained unresolved? It was like a novel with a gaping plothole. A murder mystery lacking motivation. If this were a novel, he'd throw it across the room and write the author a scathing letter, then scratch off the serial numbers and write the damned thing the way it should have been written in the first place.

But this wasn't a novel. This was real life. _His_ life. Kitazawa Yuki's reasons weren't mutable. All the excuses he could supply the man he'd loved with all the sweet passion of the terminally stupid, were meaningless, because there was only one truth. And that was a truth he could never know.

It had disappeared in the blast from a pistol.

Damp struck the hands he'd left clasped between them. A tear. Shuuichi's. Shuuichi thought he had his answer in Eiri's silence.

With a curse, Eiri swept lighter and gun aside, pushing Shuuichi down to the floor in front of him, finding at last a use for that stupid furry coat. Finding the heat, seeking the lust that always lay just beneath the surface when they came within three meters of one another.

Lust, to bury the questions. The uncertainties. The fears.

Sought...and found. Shuuichi wanted him. He wanted Shuuichi. He'd take him here. Now. Forget about everything—

"No!" He gasped and pulled away, hating himself for even thinking about taking Shuuichi in this place of filth, decay and horrific memories. Shuuichi, who was fresh-scented soap, life, and hope for the future.

"Yes." Shuuichi reached for him and pulled him close, kissing him again.

"Not here!"

Shuuichi pulled back to stare at him for a breathless moment, then:

"Where better?" Shuuichi rose to his knees and held Yuki, pressing his cheek into Yuki's hair. Then, slowly as if he was searching for words, he whispered: "Th–there are ghosts here, Yuki, can you feel them? Unhappy ghosts. I–I can f–feel the hatred." Then, slowly, wonderingly: "It's...self hate, Yuki. Th–they...he...thinks he destroyed you." Dampness seeped through to his scalp: Shuuichi was crying. "Let them see and feel how much love you were and are capable of. Release them from this place."

He pulled back, snarling. "I don't give a _damn_ about their eternal rest."

"Don't you?" Shuuichi, unfazed, reached his small hand to trace Eiri's cheek. "Then care about yourself. So much pain here. So much humiliation." Shuuichi leaned back and began working his shirt off, then rocked to his feet and began on his baggy jeans. Fabric fell, to puddle at his feet. "Replace it, Eiri. Replace Kitazawa Yuki and Uesugi Eiri with Shindou Shuuichi and Yuki Eiri."

His shorts joined the puddle and he stood, like a tiny statue of David, there in the light from the windows, snow shadows rippling down his trim, muscular little body. Tiny in all dimensions but one. Not that Shuuichi was particularly well-endowed, but Michelangelo's David's oft-disputed genitalia had never looked quite so...happy.

He was...beautiful. His skin glowed in the light from the street. The snow's delicate patterns made him look like some fey, woodland creature.

Where had he come from, this strangely mature Shuuichi? Whence such eloquence from the boy who stuttered and stumbled over the simplest of concepts? Would he disappear in the dawn's light, taking with him the magical faun?

And what of the peace which suddenly filled him? Would it disappear as well?

Somehow, as the beautiful fey creature dropped to its knees on the fur rug before him, he didn't care. Somehow, impossibly, this beautiful, fey creature belonged to him. At least for tonight.

The sweet rampant faun extended arms shaking—with cold, he suddenly realized. And silently, gently, he pulled that shivering form to him and began heating it with the fire it alone could stoke.

✴✴✴

The thrup-thrup-thrup of a helicopter outside the third story window roused Shuuichi from his post-coital daze. He blinked himself awake to a sight he'd feared never to see again: Yuki's beautiful, sleeping face. So innocent and happy. Relaxed and unguarded.

The only time he'd ever caught a glimpse of the gentle Beauty Kitazawa Yuki had tried so hard to destroy was when he slept.

Until tonight.

Tonight, as they'd made love, he'd seen Yuki's amber eyes, vulnerable and loving, aimed at him and only him, and he'd hold that image in his heart...

Forever.

Whatever happened now, he had his answer. He had his love. He could only hope Yuki had found his answers as well. Could only hope that this time, he'd found the right words to soothe his beloved's troubled soul.

He brushed those unconscious lips ever-so-gently before working his way free of Yuki's sleep-heavy arms, tucking Yuki's wool coat securely around his lover to keep him warm. He found his clothes and slipped them on. On the floor beneath his shirt was Yuki's lighter. He pressed his lips to that precious picture and tucked it into Yuki's lax hand.

The gun was there as well, a metal glint barely visible beneath Yuki's coattail.

Shuuichi wanted, with all of his heart, to take that hideous temptation and throw it out a window, but Yuki had to resist it on his own. The gods knew he'd done all he could to help.

He pulled on his coat and reached into the pocket for the envelope he'd left there, an envelope addressed in his most careful hand, an envelope he slid beneath the hand bearing the lighter.

"_Aishiteru,_ Yuki Eiri," he whispered, still marveling a bit at the sound of his own voice, absent for so long, then headed for the door and the hallway, nodding to the men K had posted for his safety and Yuki's. Those men, all but one, would stay there until Yuki left, then follow him, watching him, seeing him safely out of this seedy realm that made Shuuichi's skin crawl.

His mission in New York completed to the absolute best of his ability, he followed that man, headed for the stairwell that led down to the park, and the helicopter waiting to take him back to the airport . . . and the second half of his destiny.

**TBC**

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

**Next: Destiny.** Almost done! Just two more chapters.

**A/N**: for those who have been following the Ryu/Shu discussion, my inner-Ryu kept me up last night until I wrote a little one-shot that I just posted as well. For some giggles, check out: **Between the lines:** **The Something That's Missing: Ryu's reflections on Shu, Yuki, Touma... and the biology of creativity.**

**Reviews: Bubble:** A new voice heard from! I just loved letting Yuki be as unspeakably mushy as only a dolt who is in love and still contemplating suicide can be. ;-)

**ANKuma:** Fear not! The end is near. I look forward to you "The New York Years"

**R-HPW: **I'm on it! —Shu

**Moon**: Totally agree about both the lyrics and the closing credits. I find all the songs for Gravi to be fascinatingly multi-faceted. I don't know how much of that is the composer and how much just the poetry inherent to the Japanese language, but I love them.

Re: the use of bits of anime business: I honestly have no idea how close I am to what the animators hoped to do, but I started out in publishing doing a graphic novel and I know from personal experience how much you try to pack into one little panel. Before I ever read the manga, I did a frame by frame examination of the flashbacks, on the boat when Yuki's telling his story to Shu, in the park, and in Yuki's apartment. An awful lot of my perception of the story is based on those flashbacks. Weird, huh? What I hope comes through is that Shu is at least aware of the possibility that Eiri might be going to NYC to end it all. That's my main source of temporal tension in the plot:D:D:D and is my own little conscious addition to the flashbacks. :D

My impression of Shu is that when Yuki disappeared, he put the whole issue of what he'd been told on hold, suppressing it behind the need to perform. It's only when he gives free reign to his heart that it makes the connections.

Totally agree about the manga vs anime writing wise, but have to admit to getting lots of giggles out of the ODTAA (one damn thing after another) of 6-10. I've got GravEx on order and hope to have something more substantial to say on it soon. As to the shift in the artwork...I'm not certain what happens to comic artists, but I've seen it before. The work tends to get increasingly stylized and simplified. It's a hell of a lot of work and sometimes what you the artist see after a while is not necessarily what you're drawing. (Speaking from experience here!) I'm not saying that's the case here, but it's possible. It's also possible—I repeat _possible_ —that she's getting help with the inking as well as the textures. That can make a huge difference in the appearance of the characters.

On the subject of characters...speaking only from personal experience, but for me, I can't, absolutely cannot, do "character sketches." Characters and their true backgrounds develop out of the character interactions. They...do things, I ask them why and get them to fess up a little more about their history. By the end, I know them pretty well, but to start out...nope. And you're right, from Ayaka, all we get is her word on it that she loves Yuki. Seems to me more like the starry-eyed fan given validation by a contract between parental units!

(Chp 17) As to my take on _why_ Yuki sold Eiri to those scum...as you know, that's in **Yushu.** (Which is why I say at the top that this is something of a prequel to **Yushu**.) As for Yuki Eiri's birth and death and rebirth...Hope you liked the skin-shedding in this chap. ;-) Re: Touma and the coverup of Eiri's action...yeah, I got that, too, that Eiri never had the chance to hear "not guilty" for whatever reason. He might not have believed it at the time, but he might have dealt with it. One gets the feeling he's not even told his therapist what he did. Seriously dumb! But very Yuki.

**Sayuri-Girl: **Thanks as always!

**Saint Germain:** A blond muse?!? Oooo! Don't I wish!

**Scorch**: Can't really take total credit for that one. In the anime, Eiri says "it was me who should have been erased." That whole bit was trying to account for that wording! Don't know what the anime adapters intended, but that's my take. :D

Til next time! Shu hugs to all—Vin


	19. Aftermath

**Disclaimer**: Gravitation is all Maki Murakami's brainchild. I'm just playing in the sandbox with no profit to myself other than joy.

**A/N**: This belongs, technically, with my "Between the Lines" series, but it has long since gone beyond a oneshot, so I'm giving it its own slot. As there seems to have been some confusion, my "Between the Lines" series is a series of one shots designed to expand upon, not to rewrite, the anime or manga. "Cutting room floor scenes," if you will. "Dream Date" is based on that same concept. There are differences, obviously, between this and the anime, but I'm sticking as closely as I can without cramping "Dream Date's" own integrity.

It also, as turns out, serves as something of a prequel to my "Yushu." For "Yushu" and my other "original" Gravi stories, please check my profile.

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴  
**Aftermath  
**by Vindaloo  
✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

Something was wrong.

Eiri frowned, lifted his hand to protect his eyes against the light coming in the filthy windows.

Cold, bone-chilling light.

It was morning.

And he was alone.

Of course he was. Shuuichi was in Japan, on stage, singing his heart out in the first concert of Bad Luck's tour.

He caught his breath on a sob. A dream. It had it all been a dream. Nothing but a cruel figment of his imagination. He'd fallen asleep and dreamed Shu's...

Something fell from his hand.

His lighter. His lifeline. And it wasn't alone.

He rolled carefully up, pulling his coat one-handed around his bare shoulders, cradling the precious lighter...and a small envelope.

An envelope addressed with unbelievably bad kanji.

He smiled and closed his hand gently around the precious duo.

It...wasn't a dream.

✴✴✴

"_Shu-kun? Shindou Shuuichi, you _will _wake up! Now!"_

Shuuichi started awake. The familiar voice continued to ring in his ears, babbling away in English now, answered by the voice of the pilot of this marvelous plane.

"_You're late, Shindou." _Arrived in his ears, again in Japanese.

"Whose fault is that?" He retorted, into the aether.

"_You took longer in New York than you were allotted in the schedule."_

"It was necessary," he said quietly.

A pause, then: _"I guess it was. —You sound good, kid. _Real _good."_

He smiled into the darkness, staring up at the stars on the far side of the glass cockpit.

"_So...do we count it a successful mission?"_

"I hope so, K-san. I think...yes, I'm pretty sure it was."

Please, sweet Buddha, let it be true. K's resources had found the address of Kitazawa's old apartment, had gotten him to New York and back at mach gazzillion speeds. The rest had been up to him.

To New York, and Yuki and back in time to sing.

He hoped.

"_How _late, K?"

"_Concert started ten minutes ago."_

Started?!? "How?"

"_Ryu's covering for you."_

"Wow." Now _that_ was a warmup band! "And I'm supposed to follow that how?"

"_You can...and will, kid. Hang on!"_ And then, K said something in English to the pilot and the next thing Shuuichi knew, he was flying through the air, high above Tokyo.

He tried to scream, but the wind sucked all breath away. A sudden jolt, a snap of cloth overhead, a second, greater jolt, and then...he was swinging, like a pendulum, the lights of the city drifting ever more slowly beneath him. A tiny hissing sound, a tug on one of the chute's lines, a delicate course correction...and below him and ahead, in the new direction, was a familiar blond ponytail, rippling in the wind.

K was guiding him home.

✴✴✴

Shuuichi was right. The ghosts...were gone.

With luck, they'd stay that way.

Eiri shrugged his overcoat on and slipped the envelope into the pocket. He hadn't opened it yet, wouldn't until he was away from this place.

The Algonquin sounded...extremely attractive at the moment.

He glanced around the battered room one last time, caught a glimpse of a shadow outside the door. A deliberate glimpse, he was certain. Those would be Winchester's men out there, therefore no hint of their existence could be anything less than deliberate.

His eyes fell on the gun, lying untouched on the floor. Shuuichi had left it; intentionally, he was certain. _Choose,_ his Shu had said, and the choice was no longer difficult. His will to live had been...quite thoroughly resurrected.

The answer to that one remaining mystery..._why_ Kitazawa Yuki had set him up...no longer mattered. Not the way it had. Oh, he'd go on trying to solve it...he was a writer. He _needed_ to fill in the blanks, but it would no longer rule his life.

Shuuichi wouldn't let it.

His hand rubbed the lighter, lying in the pocket next to the unopened letter. _No matter where you go..._ The fact was, no matter where he went, Shuuichi _would_ always be with him.

One way or another.

Leaving the gun for Winchester's men to take care of, he left the past behind.

✴✴✴

He could hear Sakuma Ryuichi's magical voice even out here.

Shuuichi's feet hit the top of the building, light as a feather, feeling not so much as a tug from the chute as K released the lines with a tap of his remote control.

Shuuichi fought for balance on legs gone numb and shaking, not only from the sudden fall from the plane, but from hours of sitting quietly in the cockpit of that strange, foreign plane.

K strode up, hugged him briefly, and then, without another word, hurried him down into the building and backstage, where he had only a moment to gulp water before he was being shoved toward the stage, orange flight suit and all.

Dazed, he stumbled into the wings as Ryu entered the final chorus.

The entire audience was singing with him.

They didn't need him at all.

He looked desperately at K, who just smiled and pointed toward Ryu with his chin. He took a deep breath and stepped out onto the stage, into the deep shadows beyond the spotlights.

Hiro was the first to notice.

The guitar dropped out.

Then Suguru, after a startled glance at Hiro, followed his gaze to Shuuichi, who shrugged an _I'm sorry_ at both of them. Ryu's smile, though directed at the audience shifted. Without so much as looking back, he extended an arm toward Shuuichi, like royalty demanding he step forward.

Or a friend, inviting him to join the party of a lifetime.

Shuuichi began to sing, finding his voice a bit rusty at first, but warming quickly, setting all the ugly rumors to rest. He stepped up to the front of the stage and as they had that first magical night at ZeppTokyo, he and Ryu shared a mic, voices in perfect harmony, blending as only he and Ryu had ever been able to do.

The final notes faded into stunned silence—that erupted as Ryu, sans mic, screamed Shuuichi's introduction. Under the cover of the noise, Ryu smiled and pressed the mic into Shuuichi's hand.

"Sparkle, Shuuichi. Make the Sparklie reach out. Now...and forever."

There it was. Part blessing. Part challenge. He'd given Yuki his chance, now Ryu was giving him his chance.

He closed his hand, one finger at a time, around the mic's stem, and when the wand was his alone, looked past Ryu to his best friend, the best, most supportive friend a man ever had, and nodded. A single dip of his chin. Hiro smiled back, knowing, trusting, and with a nod to Suguru began the song they'd never had a chance to practice, a song that two days ago had only existed as a simple melody and some disjointed lyrics in his head.

_Glaring Dreams._

His song to his guiding silhouette.

His song...to Yuki.

✴✴✴

It wasn't so much a live broadcast as an illegal feed displayed on a computer screen. No one, but no one, was allowed to record an NG production.

No one, that is, but NG's own demented American-born employee. Rules didn't apply to Claude Winchester.

Just ask him.

Eiri sat in his hotel room, watching his tiny ex-grizzly bear lover singing his heart out. Singing that song he'd thrust in Eiri's face only hours ago. A song Eiri had heard once before, softly, as he fell asleep in Shuuichi's arms.

Winchester's men had left him alone, were watching on a second computer in the second room of this penthouse suite to which they'd brought him.

He'd heard the whole story from Winchester's men, who'd met him outside that room and brought him here, explaining on the way that Shu was on his way back to Japan for that opening concert.

His voice restored.

Eiri shook his head in wonder. The idiot had been that certain. He hadn't let them cancel, not even the first concert. Had made NG run the risk of looking like fools. Had told Winchester where they'd find him and when. Had been certain, most of all, that he, Yuki Eiri, alive and well, was all he needed for his voice to come back.

And he'd been right on every count.

Idiot.

His idiot. His loving, trusting, demanding, annoying...

His fingers, reaching for his lighter, encountered an envelope, an envelope addressed to him in barely legible kanji. An envelope holding nothing except...a key.

Annoying...perfect little idiot of a lover.

Shindou Shuuichi wasn't Kitazawa Yuki. Not by the remotest stretch of the imagination.

**END**: Almost...

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

**A/N**: Actually, this is a book report. After all my allusions to **GravEx **in the reviews, I felt, having finally gotten the time to read it last night, that I should qualify them all with an unqualified recommendation. In short: _I loved it._ I don't want to give anything significant away, but Ryu's motivations are suitably Machiavellian, Touma's nurse's outfit exists, I believe, only in Shu's suspicious, warped little cosplay-loving head, Yuki's brain's properly twisted and confused, and Riku...oh, Riku. I'm not a big fan of kids in stories, (to put it mildly) but little Riku has proven the exception to the rule. He's this charming little pond of quiet sanity in the ocean of typical gravitational chaos. I adore him. His attempts to make Yuki feel better and his "revenge" are alone worth the price of the manga.

And the artwork. Do I wish all the characters didn't look about ten years younger than they did in the beginning? Yeah, but the body language (especially Yuki, but Riku is priceless), the exquisite camera angles, the timing of a touch of a hand...I bow once again to Maki Murakami's genius.

**Reviews**: Yayayayayayay! The NYC scene worked!

A special thanks to **Headcase**, my spelling Nazi! Wish I _could _blame it on the house. I fear it was a brain f&t! Early on, I had that spelling in my head for the park (don't ask me where it came from) and it reared its persistent head here.

**Bubble**: there's a part of me that would love to just sit down with the anime writers and talk to them about what _they _saw in the scenes and what they hoped to convey. They have such a difficult task to take a story like this and basically aim it at a much younger audience (at least for the American market), but still retain its integrity. There's so much they could only hint at.

And, oh, the editorial nightmares of writing for TV or film! "Demographics polls say dogs are _in _this week. Put a dog in this scene..." Yes...it happens. Just like that, and with as little logic:D

**ANKuma**: I didn't want to lose the effect of the dog suit entirely, but for me, most of the cosplay in the anime and even a lot in the manga becomes symbolic, not real. Impressions, not reality. I loved making Shu into a little "bear" rather than a dog, seeing as how he bursts on that scene with all the aggression of a mama bear ready to protect her idiot cub. (And I think we can all agree, Yuki was being an idiot:D:D:D) Oh...and everyone! "Fly Away" ANKuma's promised story about Yuki's year in NYC, has begun and the first chap is OUTSTANDING.

**Kimra Dattei:** Haven't read Kenpai. Don't know if I dare get started on another, but if I do, I'll certainly give it a try:D

**Gabrielle angelique:** between you, me and the fencepost, I'm convinced Ryu is psychic...at least where it comes to Shu.

**Sayuri-girl**: it was my favorite scene, too. Certainly, it was the easiest to write... which I suppose is a good sign:D

**Moon**: Shu's little "I figured it out" was a last minute addition (and people wonder why I'm always hesitant to post! The characters just keep coming up with this stuff!) In the anime, Yuki begins to ask how he knew to come there and on the final read-through, suddenly, my inner-Shu just wanted to crow a bit. :D:D:D

**Tsuki**: Welcome! Hope you enjoyed the rest!

Everyone else who reviewed...Big Shu Hugs and virtual Pocky, as always. There is a cuddly epilog coming up, but this is pretty much it for Dream Date. Thank you all for reading!!!! Vin

P.S. Just a little unabashed re-plug...Ryu's short story that I posted as part of "Between the Lines" has only gotten a fraction of the hits of most of that series and my other stories. Not to beg (Like hell.—Yuki), but I had such a ball with it, and it was such a departure style-wise for me, I'd love to know what you all think.


	20. Epilogue

**Disclaimer**: Gravitation is all Maki Murakami's brainchild. I'm just playing in the sandbox with no profit to myself other than joy. Special thanks to Maki Murakami for letting us do it, and to the script adapters of the anime for their marvelous condensation of the essentials of the manga, upon which this story was based.

**A/N**: This belongs, technically, with my "Between the Lines" series, but it has long since gone beyond a one shot, so I'm giving it its own slot. As there seems to have been some confusion, my "Between the Lines" series is a series of one shots designed to expand upon, not to rewrite, the anime or manga. "Cutting room floor scenes," if you will. "Dream Date" is based on that same concept and is based directly on the anime version. There are differences, obviously, between this and the anime, but I'm sticking as closely as I can without cramping "Dream Date's" own integrity.

It also, as turns out, serves as something of a prequel to my "Yushu." For "Yushu" and my other "original" Gravi stories, please check my profile.

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴  
**Epilogue  
**by Vindaloo  
✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

The apartment was dark. Empty.

Shuuichi stood in the doorway, frozen by a flood of disappointment and fear.

_He _hadn't come back.

His lower lip began to quiver. He caught it with his teeth and stepped through the door, letting his backpack slip to the floor. His other luggage, complete with three boxes of souvenirs from the tour—mostly for Yuki— would arrive in the morning.

_Sleep tonight. _K had ordered, with a secret smile. _Unpack in the morning._

He'd thought he knew what that secret smile meant, thought he was coming home to the sight and scent of his Yuki. Had been running through the possible salacious scenarios ever since he'd gotten in the limo.

Instead, he'd come home to a dark, empty apartment that smelled of citrus cleaners.

He sniffed and hugged the laptop case to his chest, taking it, by force of habit more than conscious thought, to Yuki's office, where he unpacked it and plugged it in, setting it up as he would every time he brought it home, making it ready for its rightful owner.

And then, he sank into Yuki's chair and buried his head in his crossed arms, sobbing.

He'd given everything to the tour, had imagined—hoped—night after night that Yuki was in the audience, waiting for him to come off the stage, waiting to engulf him in strong arms and to say, in his luscious deep voice, _Pretty good, for a moron._

Oh, sweet Buddha, what he'd give for just one...dry...cynical...

Long fingers filtered through his hair.

He froze.

"I heard you."

Choked on a sob.

"That first night, at Zepp Tokyo."

Hiccuped.

"Pretty good."

And twisted around, the fingers sliding easily along his scalp to cup his head, holding him steady for that golden-eyed gaze.

"For a—"

The last word swirled to oblivion beneath Shuuichi's lips.

✴✴✴

Shuuichi was on his feet, but only long enough for Eiri's arms to pull him off them. Eiri pressed the kiss deeper, starved for the taste and feel of his tiny lifeline.

"I'm sorry, Shu-chan," he whispered between kisses. "The plane—"

Shuuichi reared up, swallowing the rest.

"I didn't want to come home to an empty—"

Another hungry assault.

"Shu, I—"

"For gods' sake, Yuki, just shut _up! _Shut up and kiss—"

This time, it was Eiri's turn to swallow the sound.

He swept the brat up and carried him into the bedroom, set him on the bed and began stripping him even as their lips continued renewing their intimate acquaintance.

"Cold..." Shuuichi whispered as his shirt slipped from his shoulders.

"Want me to turn the heat up?" Eiri asked, pulling away, only to have two small hands stop his retreat.

"_Hell_ no."

And soon, the ambient temperature ceased to be a problem.

Eiri's fingers traced the once-familiar lines, discovering worrisome new angles and too-prominent ribs.

"You've lost weight," he murmured, brushing the scraggly pink hair back from a perfect ear and tracing the ear with his tongue.

Shuuichi _eeped_ and shivered beneath his hands, then answered shakily: "Costume guy complained about it, too. Don't know _gasp_ h–how. I a–ate every—_yipe_—e–everythinginsight." He finished in a rush and Yuki chuckled. Likely it was just the energy he expended on stage. Shuuichi didn't know the meaning of the word moderation.

And they'd take care of it. He'd feed the brat up. Couldn't have him fading in the stretch, now could they?

He smiled to himself, continuing to reacquaint himself with Shuuichi's peculiar erogenous zones, testing his memory, seeing if Shu could possibly live up to those fantasies that had kept him sane the last several weeks.

Like his shoulder. Just that little point of bone right at the top. Who in their right mind went haywire when you licked their shoulder?

But then Shuuichi, _his_ Shuuichi, couldn't claim to be in his right mind under the best of circumstances. And if he were honest, Shuuichi responded to the slightest breath on his hair...if Yuki Eiri was the source of the breath.

Suddenly, it truly registered just how close he'd come to giving this up, worse, to leaving this priceless bundle of endless optimism huddling in a well of questions and self-doubt. As guilt rose, and his universe began to whirl out of control, he took a shuddery breath and gathered his pink-headed lifeline tight. Shuuichi, after a startled gasp, hugged back with all his surprising strength.

"It's okay, Yuki. Everything's okay." Rough little hands ran through his hair and held his face for Shuuichi's awkward but eager mouth. But his taste grew salty with silent tears, and Eiri pulled back to make him look at him.

"What now?" Concern made his voice harsher than he wanted and Shuuichi winced, but didn't flinch from his gaze.

"We _are _okay, now...aren't we?"

He brushed his lips across Shuuichi's damp eyelids in silent apology and hugged him close again. "Better than okay," he whispered into the pink hair, then, with a poke at his ribs that made him giggle, "But if you tell anyone I said that, you're dead meat."

Shuuichi's giggles reached semi-hysterical status as Eiri continued his concentrated assault on the ticklish spots...which were damn near as numerous as his erogenous zones. Unfortunately, Eiri overplayed his hand as the already tired brat giggled himself into breathless, gasping exhaustion.

✴✴✴

"Shu? _Shu!"_

Yuki was worried. Shuuichi smiled weakly and played dead, a part that didn't require much in the way of acting skills, he was that tired.

He wanted to make love—hell, he wanted Yuki to fuck his brains out—but there was the problem...he had no brains left to be fucked out, only limp muscles.

He felt Yuki sit up, felt Yuki's arms pulling him into his lap, where he just lay, a limp lump. And then Yuki began to rock gently, murmuring apologies, something about fearing he'd have to call an ambulance.

"Dummy," Shuuichi whispered, but he wiggled a bit, tucking his body closer still, and as those warm, strong arms closed around him, he abandoned all inclination to return to their aborted love-making.

He always had liked the cuddling part best.

He sighed and closed his eyes, thinking of all the times he'd dreamed of a moment like this, all the times on the couch when he'd relived that perfect day with Yuki, only in those dreams, instead of coming home to an empty apartment, he'd come home to find Yuki waiting, here in this bed. They'd make love, then cuddle, then, best of all, he'd fall asleep, next to Yuki.

Well, his perfect date had had a bit of a hiatus, but here he was at last. At least the cuddling bit. And that was enough.

After a timeless silence, he asked, softly: "What happened?"

"After you left?"

He nodded, not surprised, somehow, that Yuki read his mind.

"K's men took me to a hotel. Set me up to watch that crappy concert—" Shuuichi roused enough to poke Yuki in the ribs, surprising a chuckle out of him. "It was good, Shu. Real good. Not, however—" He felt a soft kiss brush the top of his head. "As good as my private one."

He whimpered and pressed hard against Yuki's warmth, remembering that night, remembering, in ways he'd never even tried to tell anyone, the sheer ecstacy of having his voice return. But again, Yuki seemed to read his mind.

"They told me, Shu, about your voice. You...must have been terrified. I...I'm sorry for that, and for whatever part my leaving played in it. If something happened so I couldn't write, I think I'd go mad."

Trust Yuki to understand. He found Yuki's smooth hand with his own and lifted the hand to press his lips against each precious finger in turn, a silent, heartfelt thank you, and Yuki gave a funny little cough.

"Well," Yuki continued after a moment, "Where was I? Oh, yeah, after that night...like I said, I didn't want to come home to an empty house, so...I just...walked around New York for a few days...remembering."

Remembering. Remembering the man who'd betrayed his young love, who'd damned near destroyed both of them.

Yuki was silent a moment, then, reading his mind yet one more time: "It wasn't all bad, Shu. I've...many good memories of the city, and I wanted them back."

"Memories." Shuuichi traced Yuki's hand with a fingertip. "Of...him? Ki–kitizawa, I mean."

"Some. Some of Touma and me. I ... wanted to come home ... free."

"Of...Kitizawa?"

"Of the shadows."

"Did you...did you go to his grave?"

Yuki's hold tightened. "Touma's not the only psychic."

Shuuichi shook his head. The thought of _him_ being able to read Yuki's complex mind was just plain silly. "Just...it's what you'd do, Yuki. So...did you say good-bye?"

Yuki shook his head and Shuuichi glanced up at him. "No?"

"He's dead, Shu. I just needed ... validation of the fact. I never saw the grave—Touma bundled me back to Japan on the first flight. I took flowers. I don't really know why. Felt like a damned hypocrite, but—"

"I'm glad you did."

"Glad?"

Shuuichi nodded. "Whatever else he did, Yuki, he encouraged you to write. He paid for the bad things. I think it's good you thanked him for the good things."

The fingers that had been tracing light pleasant patterns on his back paused. Then:

"I'll bet you thanked Touma for not fighting you about that lock change."

Shuuichi flushed. "K told you?"

"Legendary among his men. Not the thanking part; the standing up to Touma part. They were...impressed. But, you thanked him, didn't you?"

"Yeah. So?"

"So...he did it for himself, moron. He still had the keys and the new advantage of you thinking he was capable of a kind act."

Shuuichi stuck his lower lip out. "I'm _not_ a moron. I also had the law on my side."

Yuki grabbed his lip and tugged gently. "That's never stopped Seguchi. A security system set up by K might have."

Shuuchi pulled free—

And bit Yuki's suddenly defenseless thumb.

Yuki hissed and jerked, but Shuuichi held on, grinning around his hold on the thumb, knowing he was safe from retaliation as Yuki's other hand was being held captive between Shuuichi and the pillows.

But Yuki leaned over and kissed him around the captive thumb. Shuuichi groaned and released the thumb to get more contact with that beloved mouth, then pulled abruptly back.

"You cheated!"

"But I won. And Seguchi would do the same."

"Eee–ew!" Just the thought of Seguchi Touma _kissing_ him was just plain...icky.

Yuki chuckled. "Anything to win. And you think I should thank Kitazawa? For anything? You think he did anything that wasn't...to win?"

Shuuichi didn't even have to think. "Yes. You do things for me—"

"Hah! Like what?"

"Kiss me sometimes even when we don't have sex. Sometimes even after I've been eating Pocky."

"You think that's for you?"

"Yup. You don't _like _strawberry Pocky."

"And you don't _always _taste like it."

"But sometimes you kiss me anyway."

"Downpayment for sex."

Shuuichi giggled, knowing Yuki was determined to uphold his self-interested image, no matter what argument he gave. Still: "And Seguchi...he didn't say that just to win, he cares about you."

Suddenly, the air between them grew very serious. And after a prolonged silence, Yuki said, with a touch of bitterness: "You think Kitizawa Yuki..._ever_...cared about me?"

Shuuichi hugged Yuki close. "I don't see how he couldn't have. Something happened, Yuki, something had to have happened, to make him do something so terrible and someday you'll know what that something is. In the meantime, little Eiri became the writer Yuki Eiri because of him, and Yuki Eiri met Shindou Shuuichi in a park and said horrible nasty things to him, and then he kissed him, and then he even said he loved him—"

"Didn't!"

"Did!"

"Slip of the tongue."

Shuuichi giggled and twisted his head to meet Yuki's mouth and slipped his tongue into the protest to caress the tongue in question. The protest ended as Yuki's tongue returned his caress with interest.

"Yup," Shuuichi whispered against his lips. "Definitely with a slip of the tongue."

"Brat." Yuki murmured back.

"Meanie."

"Moron."

"Maybe. But I'm your moron."

"Point to the brat with the pink hair."

"Yippee!" But his cheer was a near silent exclamation, smothered as it was by Yuki's lips. "Shuuichi made a point!"

"Several. But I'll never tell." Yuki whispered between tiny kisses that traced Shuuichi's upper lip.

"Good." Shuuichi giggled. "Wouldn't want to ruin my rep."

"What _rep?"_

"_Ptl-ptl-ptl—eep!"_ Shuuichi's raspberry was caught and swallowed and he gave himself up completely and utterly to the man he loved.

✴✴✴

Shuuichi...was leaving.

Eiri roused himself and as the bedroom door inched open: "You'd better just be going to take a leak."

But he knew better. The kid had his pillow in one hand, and his ratty little blanket in the other.

"Uh..."

"Get back here."

Large eyes grew enormous in the moonlight.

"Y–you mean it?"

Eiri lifted the blanket and an instant later, the bed was bouncing and he had an armful of Shu.

"Now...park it. Lie still. Go to sleep."

"S–stay?"

He pulled the armful close.

"Stay, Shu." And as, with a little whimper, Shuuichi cuddled close, falling almost instantly asleep, Eiri whispered: "Forever."

ENDIT

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

Okay, m'friends, that's it for now. I will, however, likely do some 'outtakes' including the scene everyone has probably noticed is missing, which is the scene at the grave site. That's...Yuki's and Touma's scene and was unnecessary in this story. Besides, it really wants to be written in Touma's VP, which just didn't fit with the rest of the story. So...outtakes!

**Reviews**: To everyone who checked out Ryu's bit over in BtL: thank you! Virtual Pocky and Shu-Hugs to all!

The whole question of the part the dogsuit plays...Totally agree...with both **ANKuma **and **Headcase**! (How 'bout that fer waffling?) They are symbolic, but they are a symbolic reflection of how the writers are 'seeing' Shu at the time: i.e. the ever-loyal pet puppy dog willing to get kicked by and for his master. I just actively dislike that interpretation of where Shu's head is at in that final scene. I know it's probably meant to imply his ability to track Yuki anywhere, but it just didn't work for me. Also...the banana suit is just plain silly. I did my nod to his suitcase disguise, though, didja all notice? (LOL) As for taking the costumes literally, that really stretches my enjoyment of the anime. Oddly, Ryu in the Kuma-suit doesn't bother me. Ryu has, whether you're talking manga or anime, a decidedly dangerous side. It's not...demeaning to have him assume the Kuma-suit. Does the term wolf in sheep's clothing mean anything:D Also...he never just appears out of nowhere in it. Shu acquires his suits between one chord of b/g music and the next. Physically impossible and silly. To have Shu actually physically running around in the dog suit...bothers me, because of what it says about his self image. I especially don't like it at all in the final NYC scene.

That Shu is a cosplay nut is, however, obvious, so at the times when it's just plain cute (not to mention physically possible) with a warped Shu-ish logic behind it...like the suitcase or the battery...I admit, I love it. My favorite animal transformation is the hiss-spit kitten on Touma's desk when Touma has the gall to suggest Bad Luck is lacking in something essential. I like the idea of him standing up for himself and what he believes in, and being about as physically dangerous (not to mention reasonable) as a kitten.

As for the crashing into the building...this was one of those moments that I didn't question what the characters were telling me. It just 'felt' right to have this quiet touchdown after the tension and fast pace of his last twelve hours and the thrill of getting blown out of the cockpit. Obviously, I'm not writing a roadrunner/coyote fantasy version, so I really couldn't see how our lad could survive such a crash. Having him 'crash' the performance was about as good as I could manage.

**Happynoon**: I'm afraid it's hard to write a serious early Gravi story without having poor Shu suffer a bit. It's kind of his job description. The one thing I can guarantee, I'll never write a story where it doesn't come to a happy-Shu conclusion. I haven't had any more Yushu-era stories occur to me, but I've been kind of busy posting the backlog. Hopefully, once I get my current real book done, they'll talk to me again. I love doing the Cotton Candy Snow series...maybe I'll do something involving water, er, sports for summer. :D

**Daxemon, Tsuki, AoMe, Yami-no-Hikari-7, R-H PW, BlooDy-May, Sayuri-girl and supershu-chan, and Scorch66:** Thank you!

**Tsubaki**: You couldn't be bad if you tried. ;-) I'm just glad you're enjoying it. You hit the nail on the head...the date isn't really over until they're back home together. Hope this chap rounds it off to a properly warm and fuzzy ending.

**FraisesPasteque**: I'm posting lots of small chapters quickly, so reviewing several at once is cool:D Yeah, I loved GravEx. So glad she's continuing it. I love the pet names, too, and I have to admit, it does beg for some Between the Lines stories! But I've gotta finish Serghei's story first. Gotta finish...gotta finish...

Thank you all for reliving this wonderful story with me.


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